(A/N: Okay, for those of you who are opposed to character death, this is not the fanfiction for you to read. I'm sorry to those of you who are fans of this character, but that person's death is vital to the story. Do not flame, because it will be wasted on me. Besides, no one likes flamers. Not only will you be shunned by people who enjoy the story you are flaming, but you are merely disgracing yourself. Constructive criticism is okay. I can deal with that. Meaningless crap meant to hurt? Not so much. So just chill and go with the flow and we'll all have a nice ride.

--Crater

Graveside: Prologue

I Will Not Cry

Fang's Pov

It was rainy and cold that day, with a sad grey mist hanging about the graveyard. A chilling shower soaked through my black zip-up hoodie and made me want to shiver. I was sitting on her grave marker, holding a single sunflower in my olive-skinned fingers. I turned it over in my hands, thinking about how much she loved sunflowers. My lower lip trembled, and I pressed my mouth into a firm line.

'I will not cry.'

I ran my fingers over the large gravestone and gripped its edges, turning my knuckles white. I turned my head to the mirroring sky that mocked my pain and blinked away rain that dripped into my eyes. I had to get my mind around the horrible fact that... she... wasn't coming back.

'How did this happen?' I asked myself. Images of the bullet burrowing into her skin as I was held back flashed behind my eyes, and I choked my cries of anguish back.

'It was my fault this happened...' I decided morosely. Thunder rumbled in the distance as if to agree with me. My shoulders slumped, and I hugged myself tightly since she wasn't there to hold me together.

No.

Instead, she was six feet below me, never to see the sun again.

I struggled to keep the tears that were bottled up inside of me; crying was a sign of weakness. I couldn't be weak. Not when she wasn't here to keep everything the way it was supposed to be. No, I was left with that unfathomable task, and I still wasn't sure of how to do it.

A soft, gentle hand touched my shoulder, and I looked up to see Angel staring sadly at me with her large blue eyes.

"Iggy says we need to go," she nearly whispered, her voice clogged with tears. I nodded vaguely, my gaze returning to the ground around her grave. I gripped the gravestone so hard that blood blossomed at fresh wounds in my hands and fingers. I registered the pain numbly, blinking at the sight. Angel tugged at my sleeve, and I regretfully got up and followed her to the van, leaving the sunflower on the ground for Max.

Jeb stood by the driver's side, and I thankfully lent him the keys, climbing into the back with Gazzy. His blue eyes were overrunning with tears, and he let his mask of "tough guy" crumble as he mourned the loss of our beloved leader. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but I would've gotten blood on his shirt.

Iggy slid into the front seat beside Jeb, allowing silent tears to slip down his cheeks. He suddenly doubled over, wailing in agony as he gripped his strawberry blond hair at the roots in his fists. My heart ached at the sight of Ig in such emotional distress, and I wanted to help, but I wasn't in much better shape.

Angel and Nudge sat in front of Gazzy and I, holding each other and crying quietly. For once, Nudge didn't say a word.

Jeb started the car and pulled away from the cemetery, driving back to Mrs. Martinez's house to drop us off. Mrs. M. was devastated over Max's death, and Ella was completely broken, crying in her room quietly for the past week after the funeral.

I leaned my head against the chilled window, my breath clouding it up as I stared out at the rain.

Life would never be the same again. I'm sure we all knew it. Our lives were suddenly thrown into a chaotic nothingness; without Max, all was lost.

According to the Flock, or at least to me, Max was the world, and without her, the world was a scary and dark place. It was bad enough that we were created by psycho scientists that wanted us dead, but with her gone, it was even worse.

"Max..." I whimpered into the sounds of mourning that enveloped the car. I shook but refused to cry. I couldn't allow myself to cry in front of them.

So I bottled it all up, masking my aches and pains with a mask of impassivity, a mask that only Max could've seen through.

(A/N: Well, love it? Hate it? Want more? Review and I will respond to your wishes (I think...)

Anyway, this took place in February, and the next chapter will be in August, when the Flock goes to School.