Welcome. To|My Life.

[le Dawnz]

xD Aww thanks! I wasn't sure if it was too... mushy in the beginning or not. I'm just as excited as you for the reunion! I was actually kind of stuck on how to end the Fang chapters because I was so eager just to get back to FAX. lol But I finally got it going. We'll see how it goes between an oral interp for speech, reviews and studying for finals, a lab final, a Christmas concert, and two oral exams, among other things I've forgotten. Hoorah for school! =P

[le Dawnz]

Title: Welcome To My Life
FanFic: Maximum Ride
Setting: BEFORE Angel became evil. =)
Chapter: 12 – Part 3: Hands Down
Other: The LAST part of the Fang Chronicles, although you will hear more from him briefly in later chapters. All part of the plan. I must now search for a new muse, although with my biology professor rambling on in the background, it might be a difficult task at the moment, so I shall wait until I get back to my dorm. EDIT: Okay, I finally found a title. It’s not super relevant to the chapter, but it’s a good song (Hands Down by Dashboard Confessional) and I was listening to it during the last part of the chapter. So yeah. And sorry if this chapter sucks, especially towards the end. It was a lot of patch work, starting and stopping, and I think I just really, really wanted to get to what comes after. xD xP So forgive me? Please? Just the same, hope you enjoy! OH! By the way, it references Fang’s new power from book 4, but he doesn’t know he has this power yet! So it kind of freaks him out a bit.


After walking for another half an hour, Fang unfurled his wings, grateful that they didn’t seem as stiff as they had this morning. He beat his wings a few times for practice, and then took a running leap at the sky. For a couple of seconds, Fang believed he’d be fine in the air. And then a tremor of pain ripped through his shoulder blades. He tried to stay aloft, but the pain was too much even for him. He crashed ungracefully into the ground.

Damn it. he thought, grunting as he pushed himself to his feet painfully. Guess we’re doing this old-school. He wiped away the sweat that had formed on his forehead and started out again.

Fang walked for the rest of the day, and half the night as well before exhaustion bested him. He climbed a tree to rest for a few hours, and then set out again. This was his life for the next three days. Every step was taking him further from civilization and every second that passed was another part of him that began to doubt he was even going in the right direction. Would he ever find his Flock again? What if he had it all wrong and he hadn’t been the only one the School captured? What if they had gone back for his Flock, one by one? Fang could imagine it perfectly.

They took him to get him out of the way. Fang was the strongest physically, and they figured without him, the Flock would lose a huge chunk of their armor. Next they would go for Iggy, the tallest and the one with a nifty bomb-building habit. And then Angel. Just to mess with Max. It would practically lead Max right to their door if they took Angel again. Nudge and the Gasman would be next, and then finally, Max herself.

At this thought, Fang had to physically stop and fight for control of himself. He had to believe the Flock was fine. He was going to find Dr. Martinez’s house, and even if the Flock wasn’t there, Dr. Martinez and Ella would be. Max would be sure to check in with them at some point. Either they would know where the Flock was, or they could pass along the word that Fang was alive and was looking for them.

Fang thought back to his frustration at being unable to reach Dr. Martinez. He’d persistently called both her house and her cell phone, but no one had answered. Was it possible that the School had gotten to them, too? Would anybody question the disappearance of a small-town local vet and her teenage daughter? Not with the right motivation. Fang had seen it before. Fang had lived it. He was it.

He and Nudge had been taken from the hospital shortly after their birth. The doctors had been paid off to tell their parents that they’d died. Iggy had been stolen right out of his crib, and no one had ever come sniffing around Death Valley for answers. The Gasman and Angel had been sold to the School by their parents, proving, if nothing else, that everybody had their price. How much would it take to keep a few locals from questioning some story like Dr. Martinez and Ella deciding to suddenly pick up and move to Alaska?

On the ground, Fang felt lost. It was an unusual feeling. When he was in the air, he had an uncanny sense of direction, like everyone else in his family. But now, he doubted himself. The only thing that kept him moving in the same direction was the feeling that he was on the right track. Something was pulling him in that direction. Fang was grateful for the tiny bit of certainty the feeling gave him.

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn’t see the shoe box nestled in the grass at the foot of one of the biggest trees Fang had ever seen.

That night, as Fang was settling uncomfortably into the crook of a tree, something jolted his body awake. He listened intently to his surroundings, looking around cautiously. Everything was quiet. He settled back once again, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight.

The next morning, Fang finally reached civilization. Feeling slightly more confident now, he decided to look for a gas station. Gas stations had maps and pay phones. He could try Dr. Martinez again, and even if she didn’t answer, he would at least know where he was.

It didn’t take long to find one. When he went in, a bell tinkled above him. The man behind the desk, who looked like he was in his late forties with graying hair and a scruffy beard, nodded to him, barely looking up from his newspaper. Fang nodded in return and walked around to the back of the aisles. He found a stand of maps with a “Welcome to Nevada!” sign above it and the town’s name printed below. He felt slightly dejected. He’d only come barely half-way.

This is why I prefer flying. he thought, frowning at the map opened up in front of him.

He studied the map thoroughly, knowing he couldn’t pay for it and sensing a camera on his back, so he couldn’t steal it. He suddenly sensed more than the camera now. Fang looked up to see the cashier staring at him. When Fang met his gaze, he looked away rapidly. Oh-kaay… he thought, going back to the map. When he was finished, he walked around the front, approaching the counter. The man had been staring at him again, but tried to play it off as if he were scanning the entire store. Fang was the only one here.

“Do you have a pay phone?” Fang asked. The man gave him a very odd look.

“Don’t you have a cell phone?” he countered.

“Lost it.” Fang lied. The man continued to stare in a suspicious way, then directed him to the pay phone out back. Fang wished he could buy one of the candy bars on the counter, since he’d finished the granola bars the Ghosts had given him yesterday, but he needed the few quarters in his pocket for the pay phone.

The phone just rang. And rang. And rang.

Would it kill her to invest in an answering machine? he thought venomously, slamming the phone down. The action caused a sharp stab of pain to shoot up his arm and radiate through his chest. He clamped his hand over his arm, pinning it to his side and squeezing it to distract himself from the pain.

Now what? he wondered. Back to plan A, he supposed. But there were serious flaws in that plan. He still couldn’t fly, so it surely take him five days at the least to reach Dr. Martinez. He was already out of food, and he couldn’t exactly steal from a little podunk town like this without a clean and quick getaway, which, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he could pull off at this point. And the map that he’d looked at showed very few towns between here and Dr. Martinez if he took the most direct route.

Maybe I should hitch-hike, he thought sourly, knowing that even as he thought it, it wasn’t practical. He wouldn’t be able to stand being cramped into a car or truck with some stranger he didn’t trust who was sure to ask questions like: where was he going? Why he was hitch-hiking? Was he running away? Why didn’t he have any clothes or anything with him? Fang couldn’t exactly tell him that he was a runaway science experiment without any personal possessions looking for his non-biological family and being forced to do so on foot because he’d been shot twice and those wounds were effecting his ability to fly.

Yeah. That would go over well.

He sighed, stuffing a hand in his pocket while massaging his temples with the other. Hopelessness was a new feeling for him, and it was beginning to build up inside, but he tried to snap himself out of it. Max? he thought. I’m alive. Do you hear me? I’m alive! So why don’t you get off your ass and come find me?

He wasn’t really angry, because he knew that she thought he was truly dead, but couldn’t the universe throw him a bone? Send the Flock some weird vibes and have them fly over head so Fang could jump up and down like an idiot to get their attention?

Fang couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he’d ever jumped up and down like an idiot, nor felt the urge to, but if that’s what it took to get back to his family…

Something moved out of his eye. He glanced up to see a surveillance camera, similar to the little black ones inside the gas station, mounted on the corner of the building, pointed right at him. Fang narrowed his eyes, a suspicious feeling creeping up his spine. Before he could decide if his suspicion was legit, police sirens began wailing, at first sounding far away, but getting closer by the second.

They couldn’t be coming for him. He was so far out of the police’s jurisdiction it wasn’t even funny. There was no way the School knew where he was, and if they did, they wouldn’t send the damn cops. They’d send Flyboys or some new generation of mutant exterminators.

Even though all of this made sense, Fang couldn’t seem to let himself relax. The sirens were suddenly on top of him, and he saw the blue and red flashing lights against the brick wall before the blurred black and white vehicles. The screeching of tires against asphalt was practically deafening. Fang took a cautious step back, then remembered the camera above him. If he was being watched, which, let’s face it, Fang knew he was, backing away would make him seem more suspicious. Instead, he took a step forward, trying to adjust his expression to show curiosity rather than wariness.

A good actor, he apparently was not, because the men in uniform swarmed the alley anyway. “Put your hands in the air!”

Fang did as he was told, trying not to wince at the pain that radiated through his shoulder.

“Get up against the wall! You’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Jacob Kingsford!”

The what of who? What the hell were these guys talking about? Under what evidence? He hadn’t been in town long enough to kidnap someone!

“Sorry.” Fang said, lowering his hands. “Wrong guy.”

“I said, get up against the wall!”

Before the cop could finish, Fang had turned and sprinted away without a second glance. Looking back could get him caught. Normally, Fang and the rest of the Flock could easily outrun full grown men. Even Angel, and she’s only six. But under the circumstances, Fang was taking no chances. He barreled his way to the end of the alley and around the corner, then another. He ended up back in the street, and after dodging a car and two police men who had split from the rest to corner him, he dove into the trees. He ran faster still, his lungs aching from exertion. When he the sounds of the other men grew faint, he glanced back, finding that he could no longer see them. He took the opportunity to stop and quickly scale a tree, high enough to hide himself among the leaves.

He waited then, catching his breath, for them to pass by unaware. Why in the world did they think he had kidnapped some kid he’d never even heard of? What had Fang just unknowingly stumbled into?

The voices came closer, accompanied by heavy breathing and shuffling feet. To Fang’s horror, three cops halted just below his hideout. He pressed himself against the trunk and sat as still and silent as possible, praying to every higher being he could think of that they wouldn’t be smart enough to look up.

“How the hell does that damn kid run so fast?” one exclaimed between breaths.

“The better question is where the hell did he go?” another answered, leaning a hand against Fang’s tree.

“He could be anywhere. These’s trees stretch for miles.” The third was practically doubled over, gasping for air.

“We’ll find him. And then we’ll find his accomplice, and we’ll find Jacob. Johnson, you go back and tell them we need the dogs. Mark and I will keep looking out here. Come on!”

Two of them took off while the other stayed up, still recovering from his four mile sprint. “Where are you you son of a bitch?” he muttered under his breath. Fang stiffened when the man looked up, right into the tree. His eyes landed on Fang for a second, and Fang’s gut twisted, his body tense and ready to leap out of the tree and take the cop down. But the something strange happened.

No. Something downright bizarre.

The cop looked away. He shook his head, rubbed his neck, then turned around and jogged in the opposite direction, back the way he came.

Fang held his breath and watch the man go, not moving a muscle, not believing what just happened.

He waited for ten whole minutes after the last sounds of the police died away to nothing. Then he cautiously climbed down the trunk of the tree. He had to get out of here before Johnson came back with the dogs. Fang could outrun men, but he couldn’t outrun dogs.

He couldn’t go back to the town, obviously, so he’d have to try to move around it, and fast. As Fang ran, he tried to put together the pieces of this puzzle. The man behind the counter at the gas station had watched him like a hawk the entire time Fang had spent in the store. But only after having read something in the newspaper. Fang suddenly remembered seeing the word ‘kidnapped’ in bold lettering on the page the man had been reading. There must have been a crappy description of a tall, dark-haired kidnapper in the article, leading the man to suspect Fang, whom he’d never seen in town before. Fang looked at a map, and then asked for a payphone, without bothering to buy anything. Fang remembered the camera in the alley behind the store. He had slammed down the phone in frustration and cringed when the action hurt his bullet wounds. The man must have thought he was calling his “accomplice” to check on their “victim.”

Fang stopped so suddenly he nearly tripped over his own feet. He wasn’t sure why he stopped, but he suddenly felt like he couldn’t take another step forward. Or that he should. Something was telling him he was going the wrong way. He took an exploratory step backward, and almost instantaneously felt relief in the pull before feeling it tighten again. Something was pulling him back the way he came. Yanking him really.

He turned on his heel and hesitated. If he turned back now, he’d run the risk of having to confront those cops and their dogs. But he couldn’t not go. The feeling grew more urgent with every step he took, until he was running again, his feet barely touching the ground.

Fang continued to run for the next two days. Early into the run, he heard dogs barking and people shouting, but he left them behind before long. For those two days he didn’t stop to sleep, and he didn’t stop to eat. By the second night, he had reduced his speed to a stumbling jog. At one point, he tripped (in the back of his mind, he felt slightly ashamed at his lack of endurance) and noticed blood soaking through his dirty t-shirt. Ripping the shirt off, he looked down at the bandages the Ghosts had given him to replace his old ones. The patches of red had grown, but didn’t appear to be growing still.

Growling, he kicked off his sneakers, which had come untied and caused him to trip, and shoved himself to his feet, forgetting the shirt in his haste. He couldn’t afford to stop. Ever step was bringing Fang closer to Max. Closer to the Flock. Fang knew it. That was the only thing it could be. He didn’t care that the path he took now seemed to be in the same direction he came, the one that led to the School. He had to find them. He had to find her.

The black night sky faded to light and he picked up his pace. He was getting closer. Fang ducked under a tree branch only to be smack by another. Blood dripped from the small cut under his right eye. The sun kept rising, and Fang kept running, his heart practically bursting out of his chest, his lungs burning so hot they felt cold.

And then suddenly, it was gone.

The pull. It just… stopped. Fang looked around him, the trees all too familiar. They were the ones that surrounded the school. No! he thought, slamming his fist into the nearest one. He was so close! Where were they? They had to be here!

Fang was so delirious from lack of food and sleep that he wasn’t himself. Had he been in his right mind, he would be thanking his lucky stars that Max and the others weren’t here, or anywhere near the School. But instead, Fang took a step back and sucker punched the tree again, imagining it was a Flyboy. Or better yet, the scientist who thought up this whole crazy scheme to infuse bird DNA with human baby’s genetic make-up.

That’s when he heard them.

Fang turned his head, tipping an ear closer to the sound. He couldn’t make out the words, but he recognized the voices.

Iggy! The Gasman!

And that was all he needed to hear. Fang took off toward the voice, the pull returning with a vengeance, as if to say, “You doubted me?” Now he could hear another voice. It was Max. With another burst of speed, the blood rushed to his ears, drowning out their voices now. He came to an unexpected slope, and a steep one at that. But down he went, half running half sliding, sending rocks down in front of him. Everything was dark for a moment, and then he slid into the light, stumbling as he tried to regain his balance and coughing because he’d inhaled a cloud of dust and rock. When his lungs were clear, though still burning, he straightened, hardly aware that he was clutching his side tightly where his wounds had been reopened. He looked up, brushing his hair away with his free hands, and his eyes immediately found hers. Max…

An incredible sonic boom shook the air around them, nearly shoving Fang off his feet with the sheer force of it. He blinked the dust away and found her again, still staring with disbelief. Her mouth dropped open and she murmured in an almost incomprehensible whisper,

“Fang…”

[Roxie !]

o____o

....................................................................-is dead-


FAX. REUNION. NOWPLEASE.

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ICANTWAIT. And like I think I've said a gazillion times before, you write Fang SO well ^^.

I almost prefer reading this amazing fanfic to the actual books, if JP's gonna be all mean about it and deprive us of Faxness >.>..

But yeah. WRITEMOREWRITEMOREWRITEMOREEEE <333

oh and the reference to his shadow powers = win.

[le Dawnz]

xD Thanks!!! =) It's really fun writing Max and Fang. If I was this adament about writing my own characters, I'd probably be finished with my own stupid book by now!


Title: Welcome To My Life
FanFic: Maximum Ride
Setting: BEFORE Angel was evil. =)
Chapter: 13: Hallelujah
Other: The title for this chapter has been a long time coming. It is mostly taken from Rufus Wainwright’s “Hallelujah” (yes, the song from Shrek). I love this song, and it has been great inspiration for many chapters before this. But besides that, “Hallelujah! Fang is alive and the Flock is back together again!” =D WARNING: do not read if you are disapproving of or susceptible to major tension. Enjoy! EDIT: Ha! I was a good ways into this chapter before I realized that I’d completely forgotten about Jeb! EDITAGAIN: I FOUND THE PERFECT TITLE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!! Sneak Peak: Jar of Hearts. Sorry if this one is kind of short and suckish. The REAL FAX reunion happens in the next chapter.


It wasn’t possible. There was no way. Fang was dead. DEAD. This kid wasn’t Fang. It was someone who looked like Fang. A trick of the light, or a clone. I’d had a clone before, so it was possible. Maybe my mind just wasn’t working right. Yeah, that was it. I hadn’t gotten any sleep in the past few days, and I just blew up the place that has haunted me for longer than I could remember. The place that made me the way I was, and the people who took Fang from me. From us. This was obviously a big deal, so I must be shocked or something. Hallucinating.

Except, if I was hallucinating, so was everyone else.

“Fang?!” Nudge cried, her voice choked. She took a step forward, but my arm shot out to block her.

“No.” I growled, my narrowed eyes never leaving “Fang.” His breathing was heavy and broken, and his lungs wheezed. He looked like he’d been chained behind a semi and dragged along the streets for 30 or 40 miles. There was a small cut just below his right eye, red and swollen with infection, and blood crusted over it. His bandages were smudged brown and red, large patches of blood having soaked through the exact spots where Fang had been shot. His hair was too long, and even his feet looked like they’d been through hell, caked with blood and dirt.

“But Max – ”

“No, Max is right,” Iggy interjected. Iggy couldn’t see what was happening, but he’d obviously put together the pieces. “Wait here.” He brushed his hands against his jeans and stood, striding toward the Fang-imposer with purpose. Iggy would be able to tell. He knew our fingerprints, our feathers and our heartbeats like the back of his own hand. He would prove that this wasn’t Fang, and then he would kick his ass.

“Angel?” I muttered under my breath.

Angel shook her head, looking as shocked and appalled as I felt. “I… I don’t know. It really sounds like him. He’s so happy, Max. But he’s… he’s delirious. And he’s hurt. He doesn’t even know if he should believe what he’s seeing. His head is so… mixed up. It keeps fading.”

Iggy had reached “Fang.” The dark-haired boy’s eyes broke away from mine to meet Iggy, offering his hand. Iggy took his hand without pause and brushed his fingertips over every inch of it. He frowned.

What is it, Iggy? What did you find? What is it that proves that this Fang is an imposter?

But Iggy dropped Fangs hands and reached over Fake Fang’s shoulder to graze his fingers over the dark wings folded behind him. Fake Fang stretched them out, his eyes crinkling the way Fang’s used to when he was in unbearable pain. Iggy brushed his hands against the feathers, then plucked one out to get a closer look. Or… well, you know, feel. Iggy shook his head, then looked up as if to meet Fake Fang’s eyes. He took a step backward, but I couldn’t see his expression. What was going on?

“Iggy thinks it’s him! Everything is the same. It’s really Fang!” Angel gasped. I shook my head, refusing to believe it.

Fang opened his mouth and took a shaky step toward Iggy. “Iggy?” he tried to say, his voice hoarse and dry, barely more than a breath. And then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell.

Iggy heard it happen and rushed forward to catch him, grunting with effort. The rest of the Flock broke away from me, sprinting across the clearing to Iggy and Fang. My head spun. Fang was… alive?

I was clenching and unclenching my fists, watching my Flock, when something tugged my sleeve. I jumped and looked down, suddenly remembering our newest addition. I put my hand on his head, and he put his scaly, webbed fingers over my less scaly, non-webbed ones.

Everything that happened next was one big blur. My mom and Ella kept buzzing in my ear, demanding to know what was happening. I reluctantly told them, and that set off the next series of events. Mom came with a van, and Iggy and Nudge loaded Fang inside while the Gasman helped me with Jeb. There wasn’t enough room for all of us, and though Nudge wanted to ride with us, I told them to fly ahead. My mom gave them a list of things to get ready, including an operating table. I road with my mom, not wanting to leave her alone with him in case he woke up. I kept my eyes on him the entire ride.

Five hours later, Jeb was holed up in Mom’s room, still unconscious and wrapped in at least ten blankets, and Fang was in surgery – my mom’s study having been converted to an operating room. I stood by the door for an hour before returning to the living room to check on my restless flock. They hung around the room in various states of confusion and excitement.

Angel had been watching me intently the entire time, as though waiting for something to happen. I receded deeper into myself, not wanting anyone inside my head. Total was curled at her feet, his eyes glued to the door down the hall leading to the study. Nudge was speechless for once, sitting at the kitchen table and rocking her chair back and forth, balancing it precariously on its hind legs. The Gasman was standing in the corner of the kitchen, retelling the story in a hushed voice for the hundredth time to Ella, who leaned against the counter and nodded, humoring him. I’d plopped our little friend into the bath tub the second we got back, and there he’d stayed quite happily for the last few hours.

I scanned the room, mechanically searching for Iggy. I found him sitting on the furthest end of the couch, staring (well, sort of) down the opposite hall. I dropped down next to him, staring at the floor. We sat in silence for a few minutes before he leaned closer, bringing his lips to my ear (closer to my cheek really, but hey, even he can’t get it perfect every time). “Is it really him?” he asked softly.

“You tell me,” I answered.

“His fingerprints were exact matches. His feathers, too. But…”

“Yeah. But.” Iggy stared at the floor, then reached over, searching for my hand. I grabbed his, entwining our fingers and squeezing hard. It relieved a little bit of the tension in my shoulders, but not much. “Ow.”

[/i] Iggy complained half-heartedly, attempting to lighten the mood.

That’s when the door creaked open. I shot to my feet, everyone else warily doing the same. My mom appeared, announcing that she’d done what she could to patch up the holes that hadn’t, for some reason we couldn’t figure out, healed yet. It was too early to tell if he’d be okay.

In other words, Fang could die. Again.

They moved him into the guest room while I supervised. I couldn’t bring myself to touch him. Mom hooked him up to a make-shift IV to keep him hydrated. His entire torso was wrapped in bandages this time, and part of his left wing. There was a little patch over his right cheek, too, covering the stitches he’d gotten to close up the deep cut under his eye. His skin was chalky and his hair matted with sweat and dirt. He smelled rank.

It was clear he wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, and the sun had set hours ago. Everyone was exhausted, and though they were reluctant, I ushered them to bed. Iggy and the Gasman slept in the living room now, and my mom, not wanting to move Jeb, had pulled out the old air mattress and was asleep in her study. After clearing out all her equipment, of course.

Unable to sleep, I laid under Ella’s window, staring up at the moon until the sun rose.[/size][/blockquote]

[le Dawnz]

Title: Welcome To My Life
FanFic: Maximum Ride
Setting: BEFORE Angel was evil. =)
Chapter: 14: Jar of Hearts
Other: Ha! First of all, you need to know, I have the titles for the next five titles chosen already. xD So many inspirational songs! I was actually going to tell you them, but then I realized it revealed way too much. Some actually might be pushed back to later chapters because there’s going to be A LOT of tension in these next few, and a couple of serious revelations. Just a warning. But tension is obviously our favorite thing to read, otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten stuck on MR in the first place! FYI: If you haven’t yet, you HAVE to, you NEED to, read Angel: a Maximum Ride novel. It will leave you dizzy and speechless. Seriously. JP sure knows how to throw people for a loop. I think that’s why he’s so successful, because I’ve read some of his other books, too, and they always keep you on your toes. Try Don’t Blink and The Postcard Killers. Anyway, this chapter could have been better. =P Hope you enjoy anyway!


He was surrounded by darkness again, just like before. He couldn’t move his arms, his legs, his wings. Was he dying, or was he already dead? How? How could this happen? He’d just found them! He remembered the moment clearly, every detail seared into his brain. Why was this happening to him? Fang felt despair growing in his heart. His body began to relax, one limb at a time as he felt himself giving into the darkness.

“Stay with me, Fang.” a weak whisper urged him. He couldn’t tell whose voice it was, but it had definitely been female. Dr. Martinez? He tried to grab a hold of the voice and pull himself out of the hopelessness that was trying to drag him down. Every second he spent in the darkness was a struggle to keep his head above water. Not this time, he told himself. I’m not going out this time. After what seemed like hours, a stronger pull appeared. It was similar to the one he’d felt when he’d ran day and night to reach the Flock. His hold on the rope he’d used to keep himself afloat wavered, then slipped from his grip altogether. He let it, praying that it lead him back to the Flock yet again.

“Fang?”

Fang blinked open his eyes. He barely had time to acknowledge the ceiling above him or the bed beneath him before he realized his entire body was aching with a level of pain he hadn’t known existed. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get a grip. It’s just pain. Could be worse. After counting to sixty twice, he opened his eyes again. The sun shined in through the window, lighting the room. He recognized it as the guest room at Dr. Martinez’s house. With effort, he turned his head to see Angel sitting beside the bed. Her smile could have made angels sing. “Fang!

He smiled back weakly. He was really home, but where was the rest of the Flock?

“They’re here. You were unconscious for a long time, Fang. Dr. Martinez wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.” Angel quickly filled him in on everything he’d missed between the clearing and now. When she was finished, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Wow.

“I know. It’s weird. The School is just… gone. We’re free, Fang.” He started to shake his head in disbelief, but the motion made him dizzy. “You should rest, Fang.” He met her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile. I’m fine, he insisted, but something struck him.

“You keep saying my name.”

Angel frowned, blushing and looking down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. “I thought I’d never get to say it again, unless I was talking about how things used to be. I haven’t used it in a long time. None of us have.” Fang saw tears beginning to well up in the corner of her eyes, making them look even bluer. Bracing himself, he reached a hand over and grabbed both of hers. Her hands were so small; it reminded him that she was still only six years old.

“Look, Angel. See? I’m right here. I’m going to be fine.” She smiled back at him, holding back her tears as she nodded. “Now, where’s everyone else? They should see that I’m fine, too.”

Fang was soon surrounded by the members of his Flock. The Gasman and Nudge were taking turns filling him in on everything that had happened after he’d been taken by the whitecoats, giving him a complete play by play. Frankly, too much detail, but Fang appreciated it, and, surprisingly, he was glad they didn’t leave anything out. He’d been away from his family for so long. He just wanted to forget everything that had happened to him and all the pain his disappearance had caused the Flock, and pretend that it had never happened.

Iggy sat on the foot of the bed, nodding now and then and smiling. But other than the “hey, man” he’d given him when he walked in the door, he hadn’t said a word. No contributions to Nudge and Gazzy’s story, no “glad you’re alive,” no “check out this awesome bomb I built out of your laptop while you were gone.” He just sat there quietly, looking a little off.

Total, on the other hand, was ecstatic to see him. He’d immediately jumped up on the bed and licked Fang’s face when he’d came in, and was avidly jumping in to correct Nudge and Gazzy whenever he thought they’d “messed up the story.”

Even Dr. Martinez and Ella came in to see how he was doing. Max’s mom told him all the ins and outs of his medical issues, though she was still baffled as to why it was taking so long for him to heal. Ella told him all about how she and her mom had helped take down the School, and that she was glad that he was back. Eventually, Dr. Martinez ushered everybody out, insisting that Fang needed to rest.

The only person who didn’t visit Fang that afternoon was the one he needed to see the most.

“I don’t think she’s coming, Fang.” Angel said, reading his thoughts. “At least, not today.”

Well, why the hell not? Fang thought angrily before he could stop himself.

“Don’t be mad. Please? I… I think something’s wrong with Max. She’s been really quiet ever since we blew up the School. And… Fang? I can’t… I can’t hear her. Her thoughts, I mean. It’s like she’s blocking me out. Or like she’s…” Angel stopped and shook her head. “She hasn’t been in here since we got back, but sometimes I hear her sneaking away at night. She doesn’t leave the house… I think she comes here to watch you.”

Fang took all this in, keeping his face blank as only Fang could. He nodded slowly, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s okay, Ange. I’m not mad,” I told her. “But I’m tired, and I bet you are, too.” Angel didn’t respond. “Go on. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“… You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Alive?”

“Alive.

She nodded then, her blond curls bobbing as she got up and left. Fang couldn’t wait until he was well enough to scoop her up and give her the biggest bear hug he possibly could. Hugs weren’t usually Fang’s thing, but considering everything Angel had gone through while he was away, having to deal with not just her own thoughts but the rest of the Flock’s as well, he wanted nothing more than to assure her that he was back and everything would be alright now.

Well… almost nothing. There was one thing he couldn’t help wanting just a little bit more right then.

Fang tried to stay awake. He wanted to catch Max, if she really was sneaking into his room at night. But the day had exhausted him, and after a while, he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

When Fang woke up, the room was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the window, casting shadows on the wall. Blinking slowly, Fang tried to grasp where he was. It took a few seconds for everything to come back. Fang turned his head slowly, stretching the kink in his neck. Then he saw her.

Max stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her chest. At first glance, she looked the exactly the same. Her blond hair was slightly knotted, and she wore dirty, torn jeans and a t-shirt that had seen better days. She had the same face and the same calloused hands, and she still stood tensely, always ready to jump into battle when she needed to.

But when he looked closer, he saw the tiny, miniscule differences. She’d grown an inch. It wasn’t much, but it was still an inch that he’d missed. Her hair was longer, too. Her face had lost a tiny bit of its roundness and the little worry lines between her eyebrows were more prominent. Her back was stiffer, not at all how she used to stand when she was near him. It was like she expected him to jump out of bed and morph into an Eraser. There were shadows under her eyes, making it look as if she hadn’t been sleeping, and she was skinnier. Now, everyone in the Flock is unusually thin because of how many calories they burn per day, but to look at how much weight Max had lost in his absence was almost painful.

But the scariest thing was the blank look on Max’s face. Fang could almost always tell what Max was thinking, but when he looked at her now, he had no clue. Was she happy? Was she mad?

When Max realized he was awake, she straightened, her arms still folded. Fang’s dark eyes found hers and he held them there, trying to get a sense of how she was feeling, but there was nothing.

“How do you do that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Fang frowned. “Do what?”

Max paused. Eighteen seconds ticked by on the clock in the hall before she spoke again. “You’re not Fang.” Fang blinked, not sure how to respond.

“You should have studied harder. Fang couldn’t disappear and reappear. He was good at blending, but not that good. And Fang never showed emotion, but – ” She hesitated, gathering herself. “But I can tell what you’re thinking. Your thoughts are written all over your face.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. She stayed on the far side of the room near the door, never so much as leaning a bit closer.

“What am I thinking right now?” Fang prompted.

Max didn’t reply. She just stood, watching him. “They shot you. I saw you die.” she said accusingly. “I watched the light fade from your eyes.” Fang blinked again. She was there? He remembered reliving the incident when he’d been unconscious. He’d seen Max then, transparent, like a ghost.

“I saw you, too.” he told her, looking up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “I kicked a Flyboy, and swung another into the first. Then I heard your voice. You screamed my name, and a gun went off.” Fang’s jaw clenched when he remembered the searing pain. He didn’t want Max, or anyone else, to know how much pain he’d been in.

This shook Max’s impassive expression. “You… but… but that was a dream.” she whispered, almost talking to herself.

“I thought so, too,” he replied. Grunting, Fang tried to push himself into a sitting position. Max didn’t make a move to help him. Once propped up by several pillows, Fang looked up to see Max staring, uncertainty in her brown eyes. He tried to think of something to say that would convince her. That’s when he remembered his dream. The one he’d had the night he woke up sick.

“I had another dream,” he started cautiously. Thinking about parts of that dream was bringing up a familiar nausea. The Flock had been hurting so bad… but one part of his dream stood out. “We were dancing. You were in a dress and you had your hair up, and I asked you not to forget me. It was like watching something that happened a long time ago. Something I couldn’t remember…” Max looked away, her jaw tense, but Fang saw her chin quiver slightly before she could catch herself.

“We thought we’d lost you. We even had a funeral.” Fang nodded, remembering seeing a flash of it in his dream. “You have… you have no. Idea. How it was for us – without you.” Her face softened, remembering something.

Fang imagined Iggy earlier that day, sitting on the edge of his bed, not saying a word. “Iggy…?

Max shook her head, though not in disagreement. “Do you know what it was like for him? For Iggy to lose you? His brother? His best friend? His right-hand?” Max stopped, and Fang knew she’d crossed a line. “Iggy’s so paranoid now. He sits outside the bathroom door when we take baths to make sure we don’t drown. He walked around like a zombie for days. And now…”

Her words hung in the air, the elephant in the room. “Max – ”

“Do you have any idea what you did to me?” she demanded, suddenly livid, her voice raising. “How could you… how could you just… I – ” She bit her tongue, her teeth clamping shut. Fang had never seen so much hurt in Max’s eyes. Not even after she’d caught him kissing Lissa. Not even after Ari died. He could tell that realizing that he really was alive, after they’d accepted his loss, was almost as painful as believing he was gone. At least, it was for Max.

She turned away from him and slipped out the door. She closed it with a soft click and leaned back against the wall, trying to catch her breath. How could he do this to her? Make her think he was dead, and then just come back like nothing ever happened? Logically, she knew it wasn’t Fang’s fault at all, but her heart hurt so bad that she felt like she needed to blame someone. She slid down the wall onto the floor, curling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin her knees. She couldn’t think anymore. She’d done too much of it in the last few days. So instead, in the quiet of the sleeping house, she gave in. She was too tired to fight anymore. A couple of fat tears escaped the corners of her eyes, and her first broken sob was muffled by her sleeve.

But Fang heard it. He heard the second and the third, too. For the rest of the night he listened to Max, his fearless leader, his best friend, cry outside his room. When slivers of sunlight began to shine in his window, he couldn’t hear her anymore. No more than half an hour later, he heard the sound of someone turning on the shower.

Though Fang knew it wasn’t his fault, that Max couldn’t really blame him for all that had happened in his absence, he was sorry for the pain that she and everyone had experienced when he was gone. He was sorry that Max was hurting so much now. Maybe he hadn’t been able to find them fast enough. Maybe he’d wasted too much time healing when he should have been looking for them. Maybe he’d failed in contacting them to let them know he was alive. Wasn’t it enough that he was? Wasn’t it enough that he was with them now?

Fang wished that it were.

[le Dawnz]

I edited the end of that last chapter because it just didn't seem right. =P