Full Summary: What if Maxon wasn't Amberly and Clarkson's first born. Their son, William, was ten (Maxon five) when he was taken by Southern Rebels. He has been missing for fourteen years and presumed dead for thirteen of them. It is mere weeks before the end of Maxon's selection that they gain news of his possible survival. What will happen to America as she's sent home without her prince?

"I'm not him," he said.

"What?" I demanded, trying to free myself.

"America, stop.'' I huffed and quit struggling. Without any other options, I looked into Maxon's eyes. "I'm not him, all right?"

"I don't know what you mean."

He sighed. "I know that you spent years pouring yourself into another person who you thought was going to love you forever; and when he was faced with realities of the world, he abandoned you." I froze, taking in his words. "I'm not him, America. I have no intentions of giving up on you."

I shook my head. "You can't see it, Maxon. He might have let me down, but at least I knew him. After all this time, I still feel like there's this gap between us. The Selection has forced you to hand over your affection in slices. I'll never really have all of you. None of us will."

When I shrugged myself free this time, he didn't fight me.

c C c

I walked into the dining hall the next day only to find two seats empty. The King and Maxon were not seated at the head of the table. When my presence was noticed by the queen she looked up. Her expression was strange and I couldn't decipher any possible meaning.

"Lady America, please sit. I have a few announcements before our breakfast is brought out." I sat in my normal place across from Celeste and next to Kriss. They both had worried expressions on their faces. "Last night my husband gained word that a rebel camp about forty miles away from Honduragua has been harboring captives for over twenty years."

Elise gasped and Kriss' hand found my own. The queen continued with great trouble. "Among them, we have been led to believe, is our son—" her voice broke. "That William might have survived all these years."

No one spoke. I doubted anyone breathed. Queen Amberly returned to her chair and our breakfast was brought out like any other day. Her eyes were tired and I could see the effort it took for her to hold herself together. I elbowed Kriss to get her attention.

"Your Majesty?" I prompted.

"Yes, Lady America," she called with all the dignity she had collected from her years as Queen.

I looked at Kriss and then back at her. "Kriss and I were wondering if we could take our meals in our rooms today. The news is . . . something to take in."

The relief in her eyes came instantly. "Of course. Why don't you all take today to become accustomed to this development. But I ask you to please refrain from informing anyone about this possibility, I don't wish to have to take it back if the lead proves false."

"Of course, Your Majesty, thank you." I stood up, followed by Kriss, then Celeste, and finally Elise. The four of us spent the day together but it was not the laughter and fun of the past several days. No. Today we used each other for support, a hand to hold, a voice to speak when the others didn't want to think.

c C c

It would be three days until we heard any news from our Royals. We were having tea in the Women's Room when a maid brought in a letter for Queen Amberly. The letter held the King's simple demands as always.

1). The Prince was alive. They had rescued him the night before and he would soon recover to full health.

2). The official announcement would happen only after they returned, so this information was to be kept secure.

3). Maxon's Selection was to be cancelled.

4). We would all be dismissed before they got home, to avoid any extra stress on Prince William.

5). Prince William, as first son, would reclaim the title as heir to the throne.

In other words . . . I would never see Maxon again.

c C c

"Out of all the ways this could have ended, I never thought it would be like this," Celeste said as we boarded the plane home. We had said our goodbyes to Kriss and Elise on the runaway a few minutes ago and we were still teary-eyed.

"Yeah," was all I could think to say.

We both walked down the aisle of the plane, to the comfy seats in the back. "It's weird. Maxon didn't even say goodbye." I felt another tear slide down my face. "I've had this delusion since they told us we were leaving two days ago, of Maxon bursting in and stopping it. Or at least. . . stopping you."

I managed a smile. "I'm going to miss you, Celeste."

"You could always come back to Clermont with me."

I shook my head and looked out the window. "No. My place is with my family."

c C c

The limo pulled up to the house and I took my first breath since I had heard about Maxon's brother. I was home. The chauffeur opened the door and I stepped out. The cacophony of reporters and flashes from the cameras greeted me but I kept my head up and ignored them. I was home.

I attempted to get into the house but the three guards that were surrounding me couldn't push the crowd back without hurting them. That's when I heard a familiar voice call my name. James was pushing through the crowd to get to me. The guards recognized James and, with his help, were able to finally get me to the door.

The door slammed shut behind us and the quietness of my house screamed at me. Standing in a line in the dining room/kitchen, stood my family. I dropped my bag on the floor, ran out of my shoes, and jumped into my father's waiting arms.

"Daddy," I sobbed quietly.

"Oh, my sweet America," he murmured back. No one knew why the Selection had been canceled yet and we weren't even allowed to tell our families. So whatever wild idea they had, not to mention the rest of the country, they would just have to keep until the Royal Family made their announcement.

"He sent me away, Daddy. He didn't want me." I cried.

He mumbled something about not making sense but when I pulled back his face was still frowning like it had been. Before I knew it I was pulled into another hug, this one from May. Her small frame wrapped around me was more comforting than anything in the world. . . accept his.

I walked to my room after I said hello to everyone. It was strange. I don't think it truly set in yet. As I put on a small pair of shorts and a tank for the first time in months, I fell into my bed and let the sobs come. I spent almost four days in that position. My family forcing me to eat, forcing me to get up every morning, forcing me to breathe.

On the fourth night I got up sometime around midnight to go to the restroom. I had just reached the door when I heard whispered voices coming from our small living room.

"I'm scared, Magda." My father said. "She barely eats. She's holed up in that room all day but still emerges looking as if she hasn't slept since she got home. That's not our America. She acts as if she has nothing else to live for."

"You don't think she'll try to. . ." My mother's voice wavered. I held back my own gasp. She was worried I'd kill myself?

"I don't know. She's lost her fight."

I snuck back down the hall to my room before I could hear anymore. I decided then, I was done. I would erase Maxon Schreave the same way he's forgotten me.

I grabbed the bag I had brought home from the palace. They had asked if I wanted to take all the dresses I had worn throughout the Selection, they were made specifically for me anyways, but I declined. Only taking a few. The three that I did take were; my butterfly costume, from the Halloween Ball; my favorite blue dress, one that Maxon said always made my eyes sparkle like the stars; and a magenta long sleeved lace gown, the one I wore when Maxon and I danced on the roof.

I pulled out the pretty purple lace and brought it up to my chest, recalling the moments I knew I could never live without my prince. Oh Maxon! I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks but didn't try to hold them at bay.

I let myself think of the Celeste's comment on the plane. Would Maxon have stopped me from leaving? Could he have? I knew it was pointless. False hope. If he wanted me. . . He would have kept me. But I let myself dream of him one last time. I remembered the warmth from his kiss, the touch of his skin, the strength of his arms.

I laid back on the slim mattress with the springs poking me in the back and shoulders. Tomorrow I would get rid of his influence on my life. It would be like I had never fallen in love with him. I would hold myself to the highest honor of my caste. I was a five. I would always be a five. Tomorrow I would go down to the States Building and lower my caste number. I didn't need anything from him. I didn't want anything from him.

But that was tomorrow. Tonight I allowed myself to pull the worn blanket around me and dream they were his arms holding me close to him like that night in the safe room.

So I've been expirimenting with different ideas for my next story. . . Please tell me what you thought of it:)