Caged
PT: My first Maximum Ride fic. Not set in a real specific time, just when it's still awkward...after The Final Warning. Fax—cute pairing :3 Cliché, but cute.
Disclaimer: I have a different writing style XD;;;;
--
It's ironic how it happened.
How I had met the end of my freedom. It was because of that that I no longer have it.
I can hardly recollect now—it had been so fast...but I know how it had happened.
I was reckless—and that shows what kind of idiot becomes too impulsive; I had been flying, daringly skimming my wings along the side of its cold shell; drunk on my freedom. Forever grateful for my wings. No matter how long they had been mine.
That was the reason I am grounded now, and nothing had hurt more than the searing pain rushing—rapid, alive, raw—through my limbs, my veins, when the propeller came too close. I was lucky enough to be alive; struggling away from the blades, forcing for freedom, and when I slipped in an air current—
Blood. Fire. Ice.
The propellers, the cruel blades, red...my blood flowing crimson, ripping away my soaked and tainted wings; dripping; my back jerking in pain, my veins freezing—
The feel of falling.
Of plummeting.
Dropping.
Wingless.
Grounded.
Caged.
And I dreaded it, because I knew I would never have my wings, my freedom, my flight...never again—but I couldn't do anything. I could only flail, flail and fall—and fall—fall—fall—
A yell.
It sounded like Fang.
And then, abrupt as it was, I could feel the ice prickling, dulling; the rushing world fading; black reaching its fingers out into my vision—
I found that I couldn't fight it, try as I might; and in a moment bittersweet oblivion swept me into its arms.
--
Fang rubbed Max's back, staring at the blood—(crimson)—plastered against her clothes, gathering at the greatest population at the spot...
It was still bleeding—not profusely, but at a worrying rate—where her wings once were; hardly an hour before. Snowy bandages had been bound over them—but they were no longer snowy—they were red as Max, stiff like Fang, and drying. Dr. Martinez had done as much as she could, and Fang swore he had caught sight of blood slipping from Jeb's teeth (and maybe tears from the eyes).
Max had come to a while ago, had torn outside when she had recollected—her wings, her wings, the factor of freedom and significance in her life...gone. Just—like—that.
It was obvious that she wanted to be alone...
But Fang only wanted very much to disobey her wishes. So he had gone out, silently; and the rub on the back only earned a slap.
He rubbed his cheek, feeling some hurt sliding to and fro in his veins (but did he deserve it?). "Max."
She glared at him, venom in her eyes.
"Max." Undaunted, but perhaps unnerved. But he lowered his eyes while saying it as her glare intensified.
"Do me a favor," she snapped; Fang looked up, saw the fire in her eyes, "and go away." Her fist curled up, leaving bone-white knuckles in plain sight.
He waited to see if she would say anymore, but she only looked upwards, eyes bright and flaring. To see the thing she would never touch again. All up there. Fang sighed, inwardly, and felt the twinge of pain in his heart...ready to share in her unspoken pain; he looked up, folding his wings inward as he did so; not wanting to unintentionally mock his friend.
The endless sea of air above them—their friend, their home, their solace—seemed to mock them, smirk maliciously. It was a clear blue, indescribable, breathing, alive, with amazing beauty that one never tired of. The day was fair...the sun loud only to a tender manner.
Fang blinked, suddenly wondering what it was like to be grounded—a normal human—who had no wings, no way of ever brushing against the sky—without that feeling of being free—
A sudden hushed voice to the left, sounding absentminded, a whisper: "How will I live...without wings?"
Fang heard it all—the pain, the anguish, the swirling tides of want; of need.
When he turned, he saw the tears spilling from her dark eyes, doing more to show the pain agony than words—unspoken. In a reverie. Fang's heart immediately rent itself to pieces upon the sight—wingless, wingless Max, crying, on the ground forevermore—the caged bird.
Grounded.
Caged.
Forever. And ever...and ever...
He could not bear the thought; without further feeling, he slid his arms around Max; not caring if she or the entire world resented him for it. Uncaring if he should die at that very moment.
She moved not. Stiff in his arms.
"Max," he murmured, mayhap hoarsely; feeling the bits of his shredded heart wanting to stop the crying, halt the pain, bring her wings back even if the whole world stood in his way...anything to help, to see Max free again, see her smiling...anything to help.
"I feel like I'm in a cage," Max mumbled, voice oddly tranquil. Fang ran a hand along her wingless back, hoping to bring her some comfort; she did not resist.
He said back, "Then...can I break you out?"
Silence answered.
Can I?
She moved at last, turning to look at his black eyes, as if saying, Can you?
Can you?
Can you, Fang? Can you? Can you? Can you?
Can you?
...Well?
In answer he slid his arms around her, locking them tightly on her torso; he spread his wings; was uncomfortably aware of how his chin was so close to the unresisting Max's hair.
I hope.
With a prayer, he flapped his magnificent wings and swept off the ground, his grip tight—frightened.
Don't fall. Don't fall. Don't fall. Don't fall.
Flapping, with quicker strokes, feeling the extra weight beneath him but not daring to let go.
Don't fall. Don't fall. Don't fall. Don't fall. Don't fall...
The air getting sharper and sharper, feeling freer by the moment—the wind streaming through his body, pushing his wings aloft. The familiar rush of exhilaration as he flew, higher, higher, higher—
Don't fall. Don't fall—
Perspiration on his face, sweat beading along his hairline with the effort to carry Max...
A sharp intake of breath suddenly pierced the air from the body beneath him—he looked down—and saw the joy on Max's face, breathing with happiness, looking as joyful as anything in the world.
She didn't seem so heavy anymore.
Fang smiled, unconsciously, seeing her joy, no longer a trapped bird—in her liberty—
He smiled, loving the beautiful joy that adorned his friend's face, having never seen anything more comely.