"We haven't even figured out the problems we've got, and you want to add more to the list?"

"Just go with me on this." I take a moment to gather my thoughts. "Alright, let's go back to the first time you used your powers. You said that you saw Chloe get shot, reached out your hand, and then the next second you were back in class, it was about fifteen minutes earlier, and no one had noticed a thing."

"That's right."

"And you're sure it wasn't just a vision? Like the one with the storm?"

"Definitely not. Seeing the storm was all flashes and intensity. Like a really vivid nightmare. The bathroom was real. I could remember it all clearly when I got back to the classroom."

"All the details? Getting out of class? The walk there? Even though that's the only time you've physically traveled from one place to another while going back in time?"

"Yes, Victoria. I could remember everything. I could remember exactly what it felt like to be there." She starts counting off on her fingers. "How it smelled. The way sounds echoed. The dumb graffiti scratched into the stall I was hiding behind. Even the way the wet floor felt under my knees. I was definitely there."

There it is. That's the kind of thing I was looking for. "The floor you were kneeling on was wet?"

"Yeah. So?"

I lean forward intently. "And what about when you went back to the classroom? Was there still water on your knees?"

"I really don't remember, Victoria."

"Try," I press. She's probably wondering why I've latched onto what seems like a completely pointless detail, but I want to know whether I'm actually onto something before I bother explaining my theory.

"Seriously? We're talking about when I used time travel to keep your friend from killing my friend, and you want to know if my jeans were still wet?"

I nod. "Yes, I do."

"Why?"

"For fuck's sake, Max. Were they or won't they?"

She throws her arms up, frustrated. "I don't remember, okay?! It's been almost two years! And honestly, at the time I was more concerned about whether or not I was losing my mind."

Annoying as it is, she's got a point. Honestly, we're lucky she remembers as much as she does. "Fine."

"Why's it so important to you, anyway?"

"It's just a theory. I saw the stain on your shirt, and I thought..."

"Thought what?"

"Actually, I've got an idea. Hang on a second." Pulling one of the desk drawers open, I start rummaging around for the wristwatch I'm sure I saw the other day. "Where did I see that thing?"

She leans forward, trying to see what I'm looking for. "What thing?"

"Aha! Got it." I hold out one of the many watches Dad had a habit of misplacing. "Here, put this on."

Max eyes it, and me, a little suspiciously. "It's not really my style."

"Quit being a smartass and just put it on. I want to try something."

It's almost comically too big for her. She actually has to hold it in place, so it doesn't just slide off. "Now what?"

"Let me see." Grabbing her by the wrist, I check the watch against my phone; the clock on the screen changes from 2:03 to 2:04 and the watch follows suit a couple of seconds after. "Alright, here's what you're going to do. When I say go, you'll wait for a minute or two, then do the...y'know...thing."

"Rewind."

"Whatever." Am I being childish about refusing to call it a rewind? Yeah, probably. "Just go back when I first said go. Got it?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Ready? Three, two, on-" Before I can finish, Max appears to flicker again. It's a lot more subtle, but hard to miss now that I know what to look for.

"There. I..." Smirking, she lifts her hands to make very obvious and slightly obnoxious air-quotes. "...did my thing. Now will you tell me what this is about?"

"In a second. Let's see that watch." She slides it across the desk. Pulling out my phone again, I quickly compare the two. "Yeah, I was right."

"Right about what?" she groans, frustrated.

"This." I hold up my phone, which reads 2:06, and the watch, which reads 2:08. "You know that scene in the first Back to the Future movie where they put the dog into the time machine with a watch around his neck and send him into the future?"

"Back to the Future?" She doesn't even try to hide her amusement. "Really?"

"Do you remember it or not?"

"I think so? I actually liked the third movie more."

Fucking blasphemy. "You what?"

"I liked the third Back to the Future more," Max repeats, obviously unaware of the utter bullshit coming out of her mouth. "You know, the old west one?"

"Oh, I know which one you mean. And you better believe we'll be coming back to that later."

"Uh...sure."

"The point is that they sent Einstein one minute into the future, and..."

"You actually remember the dog's name?"

I glare at Max until her laughter awkwardly tapers off. "As I was saying, once they caught up with him, his watch was running one minute slow."

"Okay?"

I roll my eyes. "Meaning that he was a minute younger than he would've been if he'd never travelled into the future, because he skipped over that minute. So if he'd traveled the other way..."

"...he'd have been a minute older?" Max finishes.

"Exactly. That's why the time on the wristwatch you were wearing doesn't match the time on my phone. The watch is older than it should be."

"Just like the person wearing it," she murmurs. "So every time I rewound..."

"You ended up a little bit older," I finish, adding. "Which means that even if we do find a way for you to go all the way back, you'll still be older than everyone expects. And the longer it takes us to figure it out, the older you be when you get there."

Up until now, I'd been more or less assuming that Max's rewinds were kind of like a short, permanent version of her photo thing. That she was (for lack of a better word) 'ghosting' out of her present body and into her past body, and then staying there. Except that's obviously not what's happening, and she seems way less alarmed by that that she should be.

"Oh." She takes a few seconds to consider the idea, then shrugs. "Well, at least I'd get to keep my tattoos. They hurt enough the first time."

"That doesn't bother you at all?"

"A little, I guess," she reluctantly admits. "A lot of things about all this bother me. But so far, nothing has come along that's big enough to make me reconsider, including this whole 'being older' thing."

It's alarming how cavalier she can be about some of this stuff. I get that she's had a while to get used to it, but I can't imagine how someone could ever act so casual about fucking time travel. No one in the history of the world has come anywhere close to the kinds of forces we're messing with and, my appearance notwithstanding, it's a little hard not to freak out about it.

What's more, I don't understand how Max isn't itching for an explanation for the things she can do. I know I am.

For starters, I want to know where the hell her abilities came from, because people don't just develop time-travel powers out of nowhere.

I want to know how she's controlling them. Is it mental or emotional? Neurological, maybe? Does she rewind in her sleep without realizing it? Or is it purely physical, like a muscle that can be made stronger over time? Does she even need to hold her hand out?

I want to know what's powering them. Is Max just burning calories? Is that why she's so skinny? Or does she have some kind of organic power source inside her? What if it's like a biological nuclear reactor that'll explode if she dies? Or what if she's connected to something else altogether? I'm actually a little bit concerned (though I'd never say it out loud) that she might be putting out some kind of radiation.

And while we're at it, I'd really like to know how she's able to perceive time flowing backward from a linear time-moving-forward perspective without going batshit insane in the process. There is no reason a human brain should be able to work like that.

But most of all, I want to know exactly what's happening while she's rewinding. Is she moving? If she is, then how? Or is time moving, and if that's the case then what's moving it?

I mean, it'd be one thing if she's the one moving through time. That'd be like running so fast that the sun seems to rise in the west. It'd be amazing, but it's still kinda sorta something you can imagine a person being able to do. But if she's actually reversing time? Forcing the sun to move in the opposite direction with pure willpower? I really, really hope that isn't the case, because that's got implications that I'm not sure I'm ready to cope with.

I have no idea how I'd be able to reconcile the girl sitting across from me and someone with the power of a literal fucking god.

Shaking my head, I force myself back to the matter at hand. "Fine. Whatever. The takeaway here is that we either need to work this out as fast as we can, or hope that Price is into older women."

"Har har."

"For now, let's focus on how you can apparently carry physical objects back from the future now. Because that's blowing my mind a little."

She gives me a funny look. "How come?"

"What the hell do you mean, how come?"

"We already knew I could do that. I mean, that's how I set off the alarm in the girl's bathroom when I saved Chloe. By the time I found the hammer to break the glass, it was too late to stop Nathan. I had to take it back with me so I could set off the alarm in time." She shrugs. "I guess I assumed the past versions of those things were just kinda teleporting into my hand. I didn't think they were the older ver-"

"Stop," I cut her off. "You actually knew about this?"

"Of course." She nods slowly. "So did you."

"No, I really didn't. I'm pretty sure I'd remember something like that."

"Yes, you did. I definitely told you. I remember doing it because it was right before...I..." She trails off, and I really don't like the look that flashes across on her face. "...oops."

"And just what the fuck does 'oops' mean?"

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. "Okay, don't get mad..."

"We'll see."

"...but something happened the first time I came over here."

Oh, she fucking didn't. "If you say what I think you're about to say, you can forget about me not getting mad."

"I... I did tell you about it," she insists again, her shoulders sagging. "But you said something that upset me right after and I said something stupid and hurtful, so I...I took it back."

"You rewound."

She nods meekly. "Yes."

"And you didn't tell me."

"No, but I swear I re-told you everything! At least, I thought I did. I must have left out the hammer part by accident."

It's strange. On some level, I think I'd assumed that she'd already been doing that. After all, we'd been getting along surprisingly well. But to actually hear her say it makes me feel a little betrayed. "How many times have you done that? Gone back without telling me?"

"That was the only time, I swear. I know I shouldn't have done it."

I have absolutely no reason to take her word on that, but I'm not going to insult us both by pointing that out. "What happened?"

"I don't want to..."

"You're on really thin ice right now, Max. What happened?"

"I..." She looks away, frowning. "I was explaining what happened after I went back to the bathroom, telling you how Chloe kept insulting Nathan before he pulled the gun and you...uh...you said..."

I have a nasty feeling I know where this is going. Even if I didn't say the words out loud this time, I'd still been thinking that Price had been asking for trouble.

"...that she deserved it."

Okay, that's way worse. Fuck, I can be such an asshole sometimes. "Shit. I didn't...I just thought that she'd been making the situation worse. Not that she deserved to get shot."

"I know, but I still got angry, and..."

"And?"

"Please don't make me say it again. It was so mean. I still feel terrible." She does look pretty guilty, and I almost want to let her off the hook. Almost.

"I've said some pretty heinous shit to people, Max," I point out, as if she needs to be reminded. "But if we're going to trust each other, we can't have this hanging between us. Just this once, I promise I won't get angry."

"You said Chloe deserved it, and I said..." She winces, not looking at me. "I said your parents deserved to die for being friends with the Prescotts."

Damn. That is nasty. I mean, it's not the worst thing someone's ever said to me, but coming from Max Caulfield? Fucking savage.

"Max?" She doesn't respond, her head bowed. How much has this been weighing on her? "Max, look at me."

She hesitantly lifts her gaze from the floor, looking a little bit like she expects to get punched. Christ, you'd think she cut out my beating heart and showed it to me. Was I ever this innocent?

I lean forward, looking her in the eye. "That was a pretty shitty thing to say. How about we leave Mom and Dad out of it next time?"

"T-that's it?"

"Did you expect me to flip out or something?"

She half-shrugs, looking kind of bewildered. "A little, maybe?"

"Max, you took a shot at my dead parents one time, turned back time to undo it, and still spent a week feeling like shit. I was such a colossal bitch in high school that I nearly drove an innocent girl to suicide. In what fucked-up world could I possibly claim the high ground on this?"

"I'm still s-"

"Apology accepted, okay?"

"...okay."

"And no more secret take-backs."

"Definitely not."

"Now you're going to go buy me a pint of ice cream."

"I..." Max blinks as the cloud of self-pity around her starts to lift. "What?"

"The good stuff, too. None of that grocery-store brand shit."

"Are you kidding me?" she asks, a disbelieving smile appearing on her face. "I've been feeling like the world's biggest asshole, and you're angling for a pint of ice cream?!"

"You're right. Better make it two pints." I pout, just a little. "One for every dead parent you so cruelly insulted."

"You're unbelievable." She gets up, chuckling as she heads for the door. "Fine, but I'm picking the flavors."

"One of them better have cookie dough, Caulfield."

"You'll take whatever you get!" she shouts back from the stairs.

"She said to the orphan!"

"Oh, whatever!" The front door slams a second later.

Turns out that sometimes, just sometimes, I can actually use my bitchiness powers for good.

I can understand why she felt so guilty, and while I probably wouldn't admit it to her, I'm actually kind of touched that my feelings meant that much to her. But I'm not made of glass, and I'm not going to break down just because someone takes a shot at my parents. It's not as though I don't miss Mom and Dad, because I do. I miss them so much, it hurts. I think about them every single day, but what happened to them is no one's fault; not even Max's.

It doesn't matter whether or not her powers caused the storm. She didn't ask to be forced to pick between Chloe and Arcadia Bay, and as much as I'd like to get angry about her decision, I'm not a hypocrite. Max was thrown into an impossible position and chose to save the person she loved.

For better or worse, I'd have done the same thing in her place.