Max drifted in and out of a twilight daze during the last hour of the trip. Even the bright lights of downtown Seattle failed to rouse her attention. Just before she could pass completely into sleep, she was jerked awake by a loud *cthunk!*

The van, though perfectly still, was now somehow sinking down. At a pretty decent rate of speed, judging by the popping in her ears. There was a rumbling surrounding her, as if she were in or on some giant elevator.

"Wha-what's going on?" she murmured sleepily.

Davies put down the book she was reading, and smiled reassuringly.

"Nothing to worry about. We're just riding down the inclinator. Zion Control itself is a surprising distance below ground. Something of a miniature city, really. The entire compound is a repurposed Cold War bomb shelter. Back in the days when people still worried about that sort of thing.

Max rubbed her eyes. "Seems kind of weird you'd have a base in the middle of a city. Aren't there a lot of mountains nearby? Wouldn't that work better?"

"Normally, yes" Davies gave a wry, soft smile, and said nothing more.

It took a good ten minutes for the platform to finish its descent; the van's engine turned over, and it drove on another five minutes before finally arriving at a large underground loading dock.

There was a contingent of armed guards waiting for them. Max eyed them warily as she stepped out of the van, unsure as to what she should do. Davies stepped in front of her, staring them down.

"For God's sake, is this absolutely necessary? She's a thirteen year old girl, not a hydrogen bomb or an Al-Qaeda terrorist!"

The guards parted as a young Latina woman stepped forward. Slight of frame, not much more than whipcord muscle wrapped around bone, her hair was pixie-cut, auburn with frosted blonde and red tips. She was short though; Max guessed she was about Chloe's height, so taller than herself, but not by much. She was dressed in a field uniform similar to what Davies wore.

"Rodriguez...?" Davies inquired, in a half warning, half curious tone.

The other woman shrugged good-naturedly. "Sorry, boss. When Martinet says jump, we gotta ask for the height, as well as the arc trajectory. At least, starting out, we do..." She looked down at Max, and then smiled sadly. "Ai-yie-yie. They actually brought us a kid." She leaned in a touch, and held out her hand. "I'm Alanna. Welcome to Hall of Justice, chica."

Max just stared, sleepy and dazed. She didn't think to take the offered hand until she felt Davies' gentle prodding against the small of her back.

"If you say so." Max murmured. "I'm Max. So. Um...what's your power?"

Alanna smiled warmly, and then straightened back up. "I love how that's the first thing you asked." With that, she closed her eyes, took a slow, steady inhalation, and then began to lazily roll her fist around above her head. With a sizzling snap, a lasso composed of intense red flamed instantly materialized. She smirked and then walked over, widening the band of fire, until it was revolving around the three of them. Opening her eyes at last, and with a sleepy tilt of her head, she murmured. "Why don't you boys go back and get some rack time, yeah? I think I can take it from here."

"Ma'am?" one of the soldiers started, unsure.

"Ya heard me. Albertson's out for the night, so that puts me in charge of base security. Don't know about you, but I'm beat, so let's get our newest recruit bunked and then we can all turn in. If Martinet asks, I'll tell him everyone here gets a gold star for the night."

Slinging their rifles across their backs, the guards turned and headed away from them. Max couldn't help but shrink a bit, breathing out a soft sigh of relief. Rodriguez glanced down at her, tossed out a sly wink.

"Gotta cut them some slack. Just doing their jobs. You know how it is around here? They're always gonna crack the whip on you."

She followed this up by banishing her flaming lasso, only to recall it for a few seconds in the form of a yellow-hued bullwhip that sliced through the air with a sharp snap.

Max hugged her duffle bag tight against her. There faintest hint of a smile started to break through.

At...at least some people are nice here. Might not be so bad. Right?

She was silent, barely taking note of her surroundings as Rodriguez and Davies both pointed out various areas of the complex during their walk towards the living quarters. Everything was gunmetal blues and utilitarian greys with the only real color coming from the glowing, flat panel displays built into the walls; kind of like that Star Trek show from about four years earlier.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting on the corner of the bed in what was to be her room. Her own private accommodations at least, spartan though it may be. With a small wooden desk and a built in computer terminal, bed, drawers and shower/bathroom stall, it was about the size of a cheap hotel room. Not much bigger than her bedroom back home, really.

She let her duffle slip from her arms at last, falling to the ground, and asked, barely above a whisper. "Is it okay if I just wait until tomorrow to unpack?"

Davies nodded. "Of course, dear. Don't worry, I'll make sure they give you at least a few days to acclimate before they start in with the poking and prodding." She bit her lip, and added, "Do give them time, won't you? Once we come to understand you, what you're fully capable of, this whole barmy air of paranoia will meet a sudden end. I'm sure of it."

Max simply stretched out across her bed, and nodded. "Uh-huh." She belatedly look over to Rodriguez and said, "Nice meeting you."

The younger woman gave her a casual fingertip salute and nodded. "Yup! I'll come and pick you up for breakfast in the morning"

Davies reached out, pointing in the direction of the desk.. "Max, if anything, and I do mean anything happens, if you need to get in touch with me, you just push that button. The red one."

Max nodded once, breathing out a single soft "Thanks."

With that, they left her on her own.

She didn't even try the door; it was an automated device; again, kind of like the ones on Star Trek. But she swore she heard it latch as it slid behind the other women. It struck her as sort of funny. Where else was she going to go?

She managed to turn the lights off, and stared out into darkness for a while. As sleep finally claimed her again, she couldn't help but wonder if there was still a chance she might wake up, back in her own bed, all of this some terrible nightmare.

Over coffee, Davies and Rodriguez chatted.

"Huh. Time manipulation. Was that for real then?"

"So it would appear. There'll be any number of tests to conduct but the initial readings seem to confirm it."

Rodriguez shook her head. "Damn. Tough break. Too bad she wasn't born when you were, back before the entire world went fucking loco."

"I'm not sure that would have made much of a difference. Besides, it will get better. You'll see, Alanna. Martinet is just being overcautious. Once he realizes he doesn't have to be so zealous, once he's gotten comfortable with Max and sees she's not a threat, he'll dampen it back."

"Sweetie, I know you're incredibly smart. You'd have to be, to be able to fool yourself like that. Anyhow, hasta..."

Davies retired to her office for lack of anything better to do. She wouldn't actually need to sleep for another day or so, and there was always paperwork waiting to be done. That at least might take her mind off the day's events, if just for a brief while.

The next few days passed by in a blur. Max was made to sit through any number of cheesy orientation videos and instructed to fill out packets and reams of documentation. Health forms, benefits elections, pension contribution amounts; apparently, she was actually getting paid, although most of her salary was being held in trust until she came of age.

I guess they figure it feels less like jail if they actually give me money.

Then the were the medical exams, with the endless poking, prodding, and scanning. Vials of blood and other bodily fluids procured. Locked up for an hour in this noisy machine, or that claustrophobic chamber. Some of it seemed so stupid and redundant. Like what the hell was an ultrasound was going to tell them that an MRI didn't?

Then there were all the super embarrassing questions about her medical history, asking if she was a virgin ("Dude! I'm only thirteen!"), if she ever did drugs ("No, are you offering?"), what ran in her family ("My Dad has his appendix out...I think?"). The entire process was clearly intended for an older person, and obviously no one had the flexibility to change it around to be more appropriate for someone her age.

For the first week, they left her largely alone, once all the stupid orientation and medical stuff was out of the way. Let her read, watch some old movies. Davies did her best to check on her, despite clearly being a busy woman, but Rodriguez visited all the time, trying to cheer her up with little tricks, and doing her best to talk to her like a normal human being.

Reese stopped a few times, and made uncomfortable conversation. Max wanted to tell him that she didn't blame him for what happened to her parents. She figured he had orders, and it was plain to see he disliked doing what he did. But the truth was that she was still kind of angry at him. It'd pass through. Reese seemed genuinely nice, and she could use every friend she could get.

Nicole, for instance, avoided her like the plague. Like the fact she existed creeped the other woman out or something.

Everyone else? They weren't sure what to do with her. Treat her like a test subject? Or a security threat? They just didn't know how to relate to a thirteen year old girl. Especially not one they were worried would wipe them out of existence - yeah, she overheard all the rumors and whispering - if she got angry.

She wrote a few letters, handed them over to be sent out. She desperately wished she'd get some responses soon. Reminders that there was a real world out there, half a mile above her head. Someplace she'd be able to see again. Maybe someday soon.

A week into her stay, she received a short internal email that she was to start her training. After breakfast, she was to report to room 1015.

At least they stopped having armed guards tail her all the time.

As she stepped into the office, she glanced around. The room itself was almost empty, clearly some sort of general purpose or storage room, except for a single school desk which...was actually kind of cool. It looked like something from a sci-fi movie, with a comfortable padded chair, a built-in touchscreen computer, and a few shelves for books and supplies.

Davies was there, sitting on top of a teacher's desk, legs crossed, all prim and proper as she sipped her tea.

"Well, Cadet. Welcome to your first day of comprehensive training. We've got a lot to go over, so let's get a brisk start, shall we?" She slid off the desk, onto her feet.

Max sat down at her desk. "Y-you're gonna be my teacher?"

Davies smirked, giving a slight tilt of her head, "That's not a problem, is it, Max?"

Max shook her head. "N-no. Just. Surprised, I guess? It sounds like you're super-busy running a bunch of stuff. I guess I'm...I'm happy, actually, that it's you. Not some stranger." She smiled softly, not meaning to, but that made it no less genuine.

"I've had to arrange my schedule to accommodate you, but I got them to see my point; I'm the best suited to oversee your rather unique educational requirements. Granted, there'll be times when we'll have to meet in the middle of the night, or via video link. But as I require no more than a scant handful of hours of sleep per week, and you only have a few commitments at present, it's not as if we absolutely must keep to a set schedule."

"Huh. I guess so. Um...so what are we studying then?"

Davies brightened considerably, like an enthusiastic artist who couldn't wait to show off her latest creation. "So glad you asked! Aside from continuing your general education - and by the way, I believe I've really outdone myself on providing a world class curriculum based on your impressive achievement test results - you'll be going through basic field agent training. Spread out over a longer period of time, given your age."

"Oh. You...um...made it sound like I didn't have to do that part. I mean, if I didn't want to. The field agent stuff."

"Yes. Well. I certainly hope that after some time, we might be able to move you onto a different track if you so desire. R&D, for instance. I mean, you'll be doing some of that anyhow, while you're here."

Yeah. Yeah, I'll bet. Yay, Max the lab rat.

Davies continued. "If it makes you feel any better, you're going to get self-defense and firearms training. A child your age, I would think that'd be positively delightful, yes?"

Max closed her eyes for a few moments, bowed her head.

Okay, Max. You need to make the best of this. Moping around isn't gonna make it any easier, right? If they're talking about teaching you this kind of stuff, it means they're gonna let you out eventually. Let you go and run missions, and stuff. And then when they see how many lives you can save, and how many people you help, they'll stop treating you like...like...well anyhow, they might even apologize. Wouldn't that be cool?

Lifting her head back up and opening her eyes, she answered in a much brighter, more positive tone than she'd used in the past few days. "Yyyeeeeah. I guess? I mean, sure! That'll be cool. How many thirteen year olds get to learn how to shoot a gun for credit?"

"That's the spirit. Alright then. For this morning, we'll begin with your physics lessons. Go ahead and turn on your desk computer, and open up the curriculum file on the home screen. Let's start with the basics of quantum phenomena..."

December 2008

"Right then, Max. If you could just stick out your arm for me, let's see if I've gotten the measurements correct."

Max did as instructed. Davies secured the strange looking bracelet on to her wrist. It was shiny, and black, and felt a lot lighter than it looked. But it fit her perfectly, not uncomfortable in the slightest. There was a smoother, plastic part on top, that lit up as soon as she grazed her fingers over it.

"What the heck is this thing?"

She glanced down at the display.

SUBJECTIVE LOCAL TIME: 8:03 (UTC-8) 12-2-2009
SUBJECTIVE AGE: 13 Y - 71 D - 8H - 32M - 3S
OBJECTIVE AGE: 13 Y - 71 D - 9H - 10M - 4S

Frowning slightly, she asked. "It's a watch? I mean, don't think I'm ungrateful, it's the coolest watch I've ever seen! Just not sure what's the point. Also: subjective age? Objective age? I don't get it."

Davies smiled softly, "I call it a lifeclock. It's a fairly simple device. There's a tiny atomic clock, along with a passive receiver that figures out what your local time is based on the UTC data built into the standard GPS signal. The screen itself is merely an active matrix OLED display; the military has had it for a while, but it's just started showing up in the civilian market. The battery inside should last a good fifteen or so years between chargings, and yes, there are entire nations that would kill to figure out how I pulled that trick off. As long as you keep this device on your person, it will continuously calculate the increasing discontinuity between your actual physical age, and your age as legally recorded."

Max continued poking away at the watch on her wrist. "I-I'm sorry. I still don't understand why I need something like this. Is it a tracking device?"

"No, no. It doesn't have any active tracking gear built into it. But let me see if I can explain it more succinctly: whenever you wind time backwards, all our testing thus far indicates that your body doesn't come along for the ride. You still consume calories, your cells continue to divide, you'll eventually need sleep sooner on in the day. YOU always keep moving forward This is what is meant by objective time. Your body will always age, no matter how far back you may someday be able to rewind. I don't understand why, but at least to some extent, you have become partially decoupled from the normal boundaries and mechanics of the fabric of space-time.

"Wait. Whoa, wait a second." Max interjected, as realization dawned on her face. "You're saying that every time I rewind, I'm...like shorting my life? Compared to everyone else?"

Davies took a breath, and then nodded. "I'm afraid so. I've done my best to take into account the amount of discontinuity you've already created for yourself since your Emergence, but I'm afraid I wasn't able to calculate it with any great degree of precision. Still, better the metric we have now, than nothing at all. In the end, it's vitally important we make sure that all of us are aware of the cost, whenever you use your power."

Max's mind swam as everything began to hit home for her.

"Oh damn! So according to this thing, I'm almost an hour older than I should be?"

Davies only nodded.

"Oh, shut up! That is...that's really..."

Max stared hard at the device - well, she might as well get used to calling it a lifeclock - around her wrist. She wasn't sure how she felt about the fact that she was killing herself, literally hastening her death by degrees, whenever she rewound. Actually, that wasn't true, she knew exactly how that felt:

Creepy. Creepy and scary and...

She was young, and death seemed like a long, long ways off, but being told she already stole an hour off her life really? That really disturbed her.

With a hint of agitation in her voice, Max asked, "How can I, I mean. You can fix this, right? You can make it better?"

Davies gave her a soft, comforting pat on the hand. "Oh Max. I'm afraid it's not a matter of fixing. It's a cost. Something you're going to have to learn to live with. It will encourage both you and DI to make careful choices about appropriately using your ability." She paused in thought. "Althouuuugh. I suppose if you were somehow able to send yourself forward in time without aging, then yes; it would be an extremely simple and effective way to balance the equation, so to speak. Have you ever tried expanding time forward?"

She shook her head. "I never even thought to." Max then tried to put on a brave face. "I - ah - I guess it's like the comic books right? Great power, great responsibility? Also, it's still a really cool watch! Anyhow, thank you, Camilla. I appreciate it. I could have gone crazy with my ability and never known I was taking time away from myself." She shook her head and then smiled. "You made this too, huh? You must be smart! Like...Einstein and Hawkings and..and that guy from Nova Science Now! Neil deGrasse Tyson? Like him!"

Davies smirked. "I'll be sure to let him know you're a fan, the next time I speak with him." Max gawked for a moment at that, as the other woman continued, "Anyhow, as time goes on, I'll no doubt need to take your lifeclock back to make further refinements and adjustments. But you're good for the moment. Now that we've got this out of the way, let's start your lessons for today."

March 2009

A few months had passed since Max arrived at Zion, and over that time, her life settled into a new type of normal. To be fair, some things were getting easier: they'd stopped outright locking her up in her room every night, and she had relatively free access to the base. Within reason, of course. A lot of doors were still barred to her, but she couldn't imagine that what was behind them was any less boring than the rest of the base seemed to be.

There was a rhythm similar to life before her Emergence: school, homework, physical education. She got a day or two off a week but where was she going to spend her time? She did her best to make her own fun. Reese bought a couple of Segways out of his own money, and they'd go on races, or do jousting. Rodriguez - who could be totally girly as hell - was teaching her the finer points of makeup and beauty, ignoring her whenever she pointed out that the potential dating pool in her life right now was exactly zero.

She'd been allowed to have one day trip to Seattle, under heavy-duty chaperoning. Beyond that, she didn't have anywhere to go, and not an awful lot to do, except study and train. She didn't have friends to hang out with, at least not ones her age. Sure, Reese and Rodriguez and Davies, they were all friendly enough. Chen over in monitoring seemed like a nice guy too. But they were adults who were friendly to her, not friends per se. She didn't have anyone she could confide in, hang out with, ride bikes or gossip with.

She didn't have Chloe.

In some ways, she missed her more than her own parents.

At least she knew Chloe was safe. Safe from her, safe from the ones keeping her 'secure'. She couldn't say that much for her mom and dad.

Still, Max held on to hope. She hadn't destroyed the world - not once! - during the last five months. Sooner or later, they had to see she wasn't so dangerous.

Right?

At least the one-on-one education was good. Sorta awesome, actually. Davies was a great teacher: kind, understanding. Patient certainly. When Max was stuck with her homework, Davies had this intuitive way of figuring out exactly where the problem was, and how best to describe it, so she could get past her difficulties grasping the material. She was able to adjust the flow of instruction, to be as fast or as slow as required. Max, though relatively modest, always knew she was a bright student. Maybe even gifted. She quickly understood why she found junior high so boring, taught as it was to the lowest common denominator, and appreciated the ways that she was being challenged here. Most importantly, she didn't feel like she was being indoctrinated, which really surprised her.

Eventually, there would be more in-depth spy stuff added to the mix. Already they were teaching her martial arts, and they even let her fire a gun on the range a couple of times! Also, there was psychology, like understanding how people think, and how to exploit that.

Then there were these, well, sort of special lessons. Ones designed to make her think about time, and her powers, and how they might develop. What she might do with them. Ways of thinking 'outside the box', and she could already pull some super awesome tricks with her power. But they also went over things maybe she SHOULDN'T be doing with them.

Like this week, for example. Davies was having her watch a bunch of movies, all with a common theme: Time Bandits, The Time Machine, some episodes of Star Trek, The Sound of Thunder. Somewhere In Time. The Philadelphia Experiment.

They had just finished watching The Butterfly Effect.

"Well, as a cinematic production, that positively awful." Davies said with a smirk, as she turned to Max. "But perhaps it's given you a lot to think about?"

She nodded, because, well...it actually had.

"Yeah, that was sooo creepy. All the bad things that happen to Evan and people around him. I mean, it was like time itself kept wanting to punish him for what he was trying to do. Which was make people happy. Give everyone a better life. But at the same time, it turned into an obsession for him. It reminds me of the speech that the villain makes in that Year of Hell episode you showed me on Monday. From Voyager?"

Davies nodded. "That's a good link to pick up on. The human collective psyche has a strong desire to personify Nature. Or more to the point, natural forces that we feel powerless against. Especially time, because where does time ultimately lead each and every one of us to in the end, except death? Not to mention, the vast, unknowable complexities of causality. It's intriguing where fear of the unknown leads people."

"Yeah, no kidding. At the same time, you ever wonder if maybe Time is like a - I don't know - like something intelligent? I mean, I don't know if I believe in God and stuff, but when I got my power, it really fucked up things. People didn't die, not that I knew of, but animals did. The birds and the whales. And it could have been a LOT worse. How do you explain that?"

Fortunately, the tornado of her nightmares never came to pass. Instead, on that Friday, Arcadia Bay was visited by a sudden squall that drenched the town and brought down one or two trees. Beyond that, there were no casualties.

Davies tapped at her lips, before speaking, "It's true, we don't understand the exact reasons why the fabric of reality reacts the way it does when people Emerge. But one might as well ask why does Emergence happen at all? You can't say that it's 'unnatural', because it happens within the machinery of the universe itself."

Max countered, "Yeah, but Nature has split atoms all by itself. I remember in school, they were talking about this place in Africa where a bunch of uranium naturally formed, and it turned it into this kind of nuclear reactor. If splitting the atom was what caused Specials to happen, why didn't we have them a lot sooner?

Davies sat back down on her desk, picked up a plate of turkish delight, and held it out offeringly to her. "If an atom is split in the wilds of Africa, and Man is not around to see it, was it truly split?"

Picking up one of the treats, Max popped it in her mouth and asked, "Uhhhh...are you saying that if we don't witness these things, they don't have an effect on reality? I mean, kind of like what you've been teaching me about quantum mechanics, Heisenberg, and Schrodinger and stuff?"

"That's an excellent way of putting things, yes. Another way is: when we drop a pebble in a lake, it produces ripples that spread out. We've disrupted an otherwise stable system by introducing an outside element. Eventually, things smooth out, but if the water strider on the surface was capable of complex thought, how might it interpreted what just occurred? Perhaps we are, for whatever reason, one of the few, if not only actors in reality to drop the pebble, so to speak." Davies paused, then rose up. "On the other hand ,Max, just because something might be 'natural', may be allowed within the rules of reality and the Universe, that doesn't mean it's something we should be doing. We can create terrible poisons and diseases, bombs that can level entire cities, computer code that can cause airplanes to fall from the sky. But should we? And by that fashion, you can potentially go back and change time, but should you always?"

"Well, the movies you've shown me make it sound like the answer is no. That Time is going to punish you if you try to mess with it. But...but I did it! I helped Chloe. I saved her Dad. And nothing bad happened! Nothing..."

She slumped at her desk. Looking around at where she was.

Yeah. Nothing bad at all.

Davies helped herself to a piece of candy before putting the plate back. "Nothing that you know of. You've changed the world, in ways even *I* can't begin to calculate. Changed the course of a million, billion variables. I'm not going to say that William Price was MEANT to die. We can't know that. But you have no idea, absolutely none, all the future consequences that will result from your act. I know it might sound unbelievable, but as wonderful as it was to keep your friend's father alive, it might set into course a series of events that make life for the both of them much more difficult."

Max was incredulous. "What? How? How could that POSSIBLY happen? William dying was terrible! It made Chloe so sad. How could letting that continue on bring anything good? How could saving William make things bad?!"

Waving a hand back to the video display screen, the DVD menu still playing in a loop, Davies answered, "Think back to Evan in the movie. All the factors he found he couldn't account for, how it's slowly driving him to the edge of despair as he tries to fix all the problems each of his attempts causes. And believe me, the final answer he comes up with in the director's cut of the film is just ghastly. Much less pat than merely giving up the woman he loves." She slid off the desk, pacing around. "That's the thing of it, Max. We don't know every little thing that changing the past will alter. We can't see into the future." She paused, smirked. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

Max shook her head. No such luck for her yet.

"When you go and change the past, you're a beaver, damming up the flow of time, unable to see or comprehend how the river's new course affects things downstream. Certainly, the dam is nice for the beavers, but the drought it creates for the village miles away...they can't see or comprehend this. And why are you laughing?"

Max covered up her mouth, then lowered it, still showing a smile. "Sorry. It's just...I think that's the Blackwell swimming team. The Beavers." She blinked. "Oh wait, no. That was the Otters."

Davies chuckled. "I see. Anyhow, I'm sure someone might look at World War II, and find it so horrible that it needed to be prevented. But there were a LOT of positive changes that came from it as well: the end of conventional, world-spanning warfare as a viable strategy, the birth of the modern feminist and civil rights movements, a period of remarkable peace and prosperity in the Western world. Our lives would be so different without that conflict, and not necessarily for the better."

"But what about my rewind powers? Isn't that just as risky?"

"I'm sure a valid argument could be made that any and all manipulation of time is risky. Conversely, I will admit that there is something that strikes me as less...problematic...with what you do now. It's as if you're able to only extend out a decision point. You can see the immediate consequences of an action: a careless word, or a good deed gone bad. But eventually, you're forced to accept the long term responsibilities of what you've done, and move forward."

Davies glanced up at the cameras in the corners of the room, checked her watch. Max watched with a confused expression as the other woman leaned over the school and leaned in low to whisper, just for her.

"Max. The security system is disabled for the next two minutes. They'll never know, I've seen to that. But I want you to understand why I've been showing you these movies. Make you think long and hard about the ramifications of using your powers. I know we've done some initial tests, and that you feel that if you push yourself hard enough, you could go back in time again, provided you can focus on a picture someone took of you. But the purpose of this week's lessons have been to show you why...why I think you must never try it again. Why we need to convince Martinet and the others that you going back and saving Chloe's father was a fluke. Something that we simply can't replicate. Do you understand me?"

Max nodded slowly, even as the blood drained from her face. "Yeah. Yeah I think I do. The less dangerous they think I am, the less likely they'll want to-to lock me away forever?"

Davies gave a single, sharp nod. "That's part of it, certainly. Just promise me, for the time being, that you'll avoid experimenting with that aspect of your power on your own, as well? Perhaps someday, we can understand it. Find situations where the benefits exceed the risks, but it's simply too dangerous here and now."

"O-okay."

"Max, promise me!"

"I promise! I promise, God. You think seeing the creepy shit that happened in the movie didn't scare me enough already?! Or all the others? God, after Somewhere In Time, I never want to check my pockets for loose change again."

With that, Davies suddenly rose up, and wet back to her desk. Paused for a few seconds, then smiled, as the status lights on the camera returned "Anyhow, I think you've earned an early break for the day. I'll send you an email with next week's homework assignments. I personally will be out in the field over the next week or so, but I'm confident that you're enough of a self-starter that you can manage. We'll have a few check in sessions. Rodriguez and Reese will be on base for a while yet, and they can handle your continuing field agent training. So, on that note, have a wonderful day and see you again soon."

Max rose from her desk and nodded, glad to be done for the day. "Okay. See you. Um...good luck, whatever it is you're doing?"

She waved and headed off.

Shit. Like I needed to be scared of myself today. Huh. I wonder if I could get away with that. Pretend my powers just totally stopped working. Then they'd have to let me go, right? Yeah, they'd be disappointed, but then I could go home and have a normal life again.

Max let herself believe that fantasy for exactly eight seconds before coming back to her senses.

May 2009

Meredith sighed heavily, groaning as he massaged his abdomen. He'd been having a lot of issues with heartburn lately; too many late nights, combined with too much fast food. At least, that's what he told himself, as he took a slug of liquid antacid straight from the bottle, then slipped it into his jacket pocket.

Spring was in full bloom in Arcadia Bay, not that you could tell, here in the dark back corner of the Fishwife Tavern. The place wasn't so much a dive as it was clearly a locals only spot, tackily decorated in nautical ephemera, pictures of native sons and daughters long gone and forgotten, and yellowing, faded regulatory placards. It was a place people could get a drink, and more importantly, not pay too much attention to each other. But it was an appropriate place for the meeting he was having with the Caulfields: quiet, out of the way, technically neutral ground. Where people were inclined not to pry into each others affairs.

It was the first time he'd returned to the town since Max's extraction over seven months ago. And he was absolutely dreading this homecoming.

He checked his watch, glanced over towards the front as he watched the tavern door opened. revealing Max's father, Ryan Caulfield, with his wife Vanessa in tow. The older man's face was a false mask of neutrality; the eyes clearly showed the barely contained anger that he felt at this moment. Hers? She wore her fear and heartache openly.

Waving a hand to summon them, Meredith indicated the two chairs across the table, for them to sit.

"Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield. I'm not sure if you remember me. Meredith Reese, we met...ah-we met back in October."

He held out his hand to the other man; he was neither disappointed nor surprised when he refused to take it.

"Yes. I remember you." Caulfield muttered darkly through gritted teeth, as he and his wife took their chairs. "Are you the one the government's sent? Are you going to tell me and my wife what the hell has happened to our daughter?! Why every lawyer that we've tried to retain on our behalf mysteriously drops us as a client after barely a week of investigation?"

From day one, Meredith warned the brass that this was exactly what was going to happen. The Caulfields were smart, strong-willed people. They'd already managed to shake off the initial memory implants he'd laid down, as well as the follow up work undertaken back in the late winter. His superiors were accusing him of using far too light a touch.

It was a fair accusation; he was, and with good reason.

Memory was a tricky, fragile thing. What we remember, how we relate to it, that grand collection of experiences and context are what essentially make up an individual identity. Tug too hard, on too many threads at the same time, and that vast tapestry threatened to come undone.

He had to make them understand this, somehow. It still wasn't too late to try and salvage the situation, bind the Caulfields to an ironclad NDA, and be done with it. Get them as much on their side as was possible. Stop insisting that Max had to become the next best thing to a ghost.

But in the meantime, he had his orders...

"Yes, Mr. Caulfield. I'm here to have a frank discussion with you. You and your wife.

Vanessa Caulfield spoke at last, unable to contain herself. "Please! Please, we just...we need to know why! Why would our own government abduct our little girl!? How can you possibly justify what you've done!" To her credit, she kept her voice low enough so as not to carry, despite the emotion it was charged with.

Meredith held out his hands accommodatingly. "Alright. Fair enough. Let me get you both a drink, and then we'll talk. Open and honest."

Max's father stared daggers at him. "No. You'll tell us now. We're here for answers, damnit, not to make polite conversation!"

Meredith grimaced again. Whatever the hell was going on with his stomach, he was going to need something a lot stronger than Mylanta.

"Right, well maybe you'll just indulge me, let me have something first?"

Because he was going to need something a lot stronger than heartburn medicine to get him through the night after he was finished with the Caulfields.

July 2009

Dear Chloe,

Sorry I haven't written in a while. I hope you got the last couple of letters I sent you!

The first attempt had bounced back from the censors. Too much compromising information, they told her. The second letter went through, but only as far as she was able to tell. Would they even let her read a response from Chloe?

But why wouldn't they? What would be the risk? She was just being paranoid.

And I also want to say, again, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say bye for real. Things got so stupid crazy at home. I was kind of stunned, you know? My life changed so fast, and I didn't have a lot of time to process.

Anyhow, Zion Academy is actually kinda cool. There aren't a lot of other kids here. It's a really intensive program, small class sizes, a lot of instructor one-on-one. I guess I can see why Mom and Dad were pushing me to go, especially with the scholarship. This place can't be cheap! They have like computers in the desks and crazy future shit like that!

The other kids are okay, I guess. We don't talk a lot. But there's this girl, Alanna. She's an older student, and she helped keep me safe from some bullies that I ran into on my first day here. She's nice, but I think she's a bit of a pyromaniac!

Max looked down at the words she wrote, then erased part of them. As funny as the joke might have been, the people censoring her mail would have shit a brick.

She's nice. And so is my teacher, Ms. Davies, and Mr. Reese, who teaches gym.

They were all lies of a sort. But she needed something to talk about. Something to make the letter seem authentic.

But Seattle's not Arcadia Bay. And no one here is you.

I really miss you.

I miss riding my bike with you, and watching movies with you, laughing and gossiping and talking shit with you. And eating too many waffle fries at the Two Whales, together, and hiking and I miss your Mom and Dad, too. Tell them I say hi!

The study schedule here is really crazy. We don't get a lot in the way of vacation breaks. I guess it's kind of like those schools in Japan, that way. I mean, it's July, and I'm still here, can you freaking believe it!? But I'm sure that before too long, I'll get a chance to come home. And then you better believe I am running over to your house, and we are tearing shit up!

Your best friend forever,

love

Max

She watched the paper print out from the small laser printer set into her desk. Prayed that she actually got this one. That Chloe would write her back.

It was one of the few rays of hope that kept her going.

October 2009

"So. Here we are, Agent Davies. One year on from Max's Emergence. As you know, I'll need to produce a report for DHS next week; they're very interested in knowing how this investment is paying off."

Camilla glanced down at her tablet, and bristled. She absolutely loathed how Martinet referred to Max as if she were a thing. A tank, a plane, or some other shiny weapons system that was going through its research and development paces. Robertson had been a hardass, but he understood in the end that Specials were human beings. Empowered, incredibly useful assets, but people all the same.

A bloody damn shame. I was hoping Paul wasn't nearly as bad as my initial impressions led me to believe.

On the other hand, perhaps she was being unfair to him, and too kind to Robertson; he left, never having faced a challenge to the status quo like Max Caulfield.

"Most of what you need has already been delivered to your desk, sir. Max is bright, eager, dedicated, despite the challenging circumstances the DI continues to place her in. She's been largely cooperative with the experiments we've asked her to undertake, especially some of the more...morally questionable ones."

She left that statement to hang in the air; Martinet didn't rise to the bait, and so she continued.

"She's taking well to the initial martial arts training; I day say it's one of her favorites, actually."

Martinet hmmmed low, reaching out to fiddle aimlessly with one of his pens. "I can't help but notice that you made a change to the proposed curriculum. I was under the impression we were going to be teaching her LINE."

"Sir, with all due respect, there's a reason why the US Marine Corps moved over to MCMAP; aside from being more tactically flexible, it's better suited for peacekeeping operations. For the past year, Rodriguez and Albertson have focused teaching her defense: Akido, Systema countermoves, and the aforementioned MCMAP. In the next year, they'll start to include Krav Maga, and I should think that would be acceptable?"

Martinet nodded once. "I suppose it'll do. Now, there have been some concerns about how her powers are developing."

Camille tried not to sigh at this. "We've managed to get her comfortably rewinding time back from five minutes to two and a half hours. We think as her training continues, we can consistently achieve greater gains."

"How long do you suppose until you get her rewinding up to twenty-four hours?"

She paused overlong. "Sir, we're developing her abilities as quickly as safety and responsibility will allow. No doubt you've read the medical reports? The issues with nose bleeds and cranial swelling that occur if we push her too far, too fast, not to mention the incidents where her powers temporarily shut down if she over-exerts herself. The abilities of many Specials are like a muscle, which needs to be trained and conditioned in the right way: slowly, gradually. Reese didn't start out able to affect memory to the scale that he can now, nor was Wright able to lock down every Special in a mile radius immediately after her Emergence. DHS needs to show patience in this matter."

Martinet fixed a steely glance on her, "At the same time, I don't think I need to remind you how incredibly valuable her abilities could be if only..."

Her voice rose slightly in response, leaned forward just a bit. "Yes sir, I understand completely what is at stake. And I would like to remind you that every time we have Max use her powers for any reason, be it training, testing, or the like, she's literally stealing that time off her lifespan. Push her too far, too fast, and she might age herself out of usefulness."

Admittedly, that's a bit dramatic. But he doesn't need to know that.

Moving quickly along, either considering the matter closed, or looking to continue the debate another time, he asked, "And this ability that Max mentioned in her initial interviews. That she was able to jump back over the span of two weeks, and mentally control her past self?"

At this, Camilla leaned back, clasping her hands together. She glanced over towards the faux-outside windows, as if gathering her thoughts, then flicked her gaze back to Martinet. "Well, I'm sorry to report that we've had no further success with that. She's convinced a photo on the wall at her friend's house is what allowed her to access that ability, but we've not had any luck duplicating the feat. Believe me, it's not for lack of trying; I honestly believe Max has given it her best effort."

"Still. It seems strange she could have done something so profoundly powerful as this once, and then never again."

She began to bob her head, suppressing the urge to speak slower, as if trying to explain something once again to a small child. "As I've indicated in previous reports, during an Special's flare window, exhibition of 'wild potential' is not uncommon. I was actually telekinetic for about two days after my initial Emergence, but I've not been able to move as much as a penny since. Reese temporarily exhibited all the classic signs of synesthesia, and Rodriguez swears she was able to mentally control an entire park's worth of squirrels for the first six hours, before settling down as a pyrokinetic. It's vital to remember that Specials directly manipulate reality at the quantum level; after Emergence, they're like a jar of silt that's been shaken up; things take time to settle down, and curious effects are evidenced that may never return again. Once abilities are set in place, that's often that. They may grow in power, but I've only read of one or two examples where entirely new abilities were gained."

He snorted, frowning, and carelessly tossed the pen back onto the desk. "That's damn unfortunate. I think Secretary Napolitano was personally interested in the possibilities."

"I suppose unfortunate is one way of describing the situation. Extremely dangerous is another. But we will continue to see what progress can be made, of course."

That ought to keep him happy, for now at least.

"Fine. Thank you, Davies. I'll contact you again if there's anything more I need, but I believe I have enough to present my report"

She rose up, eager to withdraw from the Director's office.

To the best of her knowledge, Max was keeping up her end of the agreement they had struck several months ago, to no longer continue any study or discussion about her potential ability to travel back in time by focusing on photographs in which she was featured. Hopefully, Martinet would simply give up on this line of inquiry, and pin his hopes on Max's rewinding power.

In Davies' opinion, it was far too dangerous to study, despite the excitement that the scientist in her felt at the prospect of studying those temporal abilities. Of course she could see certain tactical advantages as well, but...again, the risk was too great.

She was treading an incredibly dangerous line, making that determination on her own, suppressing findings and evidence the way she was. At the same time, she was convinced that the world might thank her for that someday.

It wasn't the first time she'd made a judgement call that might have spelled the end of her career with the Damocles Initiative; as a Passive, they probably wouldn't try to 'retire' her outright, but they could make her life unpleasant enough if they kicked her out. Certainly, she'd done her best to try and adapt to the culture changes that were swiftly imposed on her and the rest of the researchers when the S.O.A.P. was decoupled from Health and Human Services, and jammed into the bureaucratic golem that became Homeland Security. When the mission stopped primarily being about finding ways that Specials could benefit all of humanity, and instead finding ways to militarize them.

We got through the Cold War somehow without it happening, hell, bloody damn near did under Reagan, but still, we persevered. Am I being naive, thinking that with a change in Presidential administrations, it's just a matter of time until Damocles shifts back from such an aggressively military bent?

Only time would tell.

November 2009

Chloe curled up at the foot of her bed, shaking like a leaf.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see it playing out in front of her: her father's last moments, as he rushed out into the street. Her ears roared against with the screech of rubber, the sickening thud of flesh, bone, and muscle crunching against metal and glass.

And she wasn't even there when it happened.

Everything she sees and hears is spun from her imagination. How she envisions it all must have happened on that day. When her father did what he did best; care about other people. Play the hero, when the moment called for it.

She wondered what would be worse: replaying the the imagined scene repeatedly in her mind, or actually being there. Actually watching as it all played out for real. It ached so badly, her desire to be there with him at the end. If only she could have held his hand and told him how much she loved him. But maybe it would have been so much more traumatizing it to actually have the whole incident painted in the most gruesome of strokes. She had to figure there were times when the reality of something was a hell of a lot worse than anything the mind could invent.

She was so alone now. Her friends, they tried to help her, but they didn't know how. They couldn't figure out how to reach out to her, pierce through the shield she'd thrown up around herself. Her mother did her best, but in many ways, her dad's death struck her mom even harder.

There was only one person who might have been able to comfort her. The one who would have wrapped her arms around her, cradled her, listened to her, or just sat there, wiping her eyes dry. The girl who would have moved heaven and hell to try and help her get through this.

Once upon a time, at least...

But Max Caulfield wasn't anything more than a ghost now. A year gone, and not a single word after that last awful text conversation.

Max! Where the hell are you? Why the fuck won't you come back?! You're my best friend. Were. You need to be here. Oh God...*I* need you to be here.

If only she could somehow wind back time. Pluck Max from the past, and sob on her shoulder.

But there was no one to help her now.

She was utterly and entirely alone with her grief.

A/N: Hey kids! It's Black Swan Saturday, brought to you by Lyta and Corentin! Sponsored by Manic Panic, the Manic-Panickiest hairdye allowed by law! Weeeee!

So that was a long one. And the next four chapters afterwards will make up a singular arc that I think clocked in at something like 30-35k. Part of me worried that I was taking too long to get to 2013, but it occurred to me that this is such a massively different AU, that I couldn't just handwave away a lot of it, and it turned into rather fertile storytelling ground.

At the same time: Guess who has two thumbs, and just finished the first draft of the chapter where Chloe and Max meet up on a Monday in October? This gal! It's nice to finally get there and start writing, and I had a lot of fun with it. And as you can see, Our Blunette Gayngel probably does not have a wheelchair-bound future ahead of her. It could be said that some destinies can't be avoided, and sadly, poor William met his yet again. But don't think the consequences of changing the past are fully played out yet...

I want to give a shout out to Reilovernat1213. Without their encoragement, Rodriguez was going to end up as a very minor chatacter. Insteady she becomes an important secondary, so thanks!

Just a warning, things are getting a little crazy in my life; while I technically have the next six chapters written out in various draft forms, the editing process takes me a long while, so there may come a time when I can't keep such a tight schedule, buuut...rest assured we've got written material for weeks to go!

I just want to thank everyone, you've been really kind lately with the reviews, and I appreciate them all. Have a great Labor Day, for all you folks living in the US.

9-5-15: A tip of the hat to RED78910 for spotting a small but significant dating error.