Disclaimer: Yes, because if I were James Patterson, I would be sitting here in the body of a teenage girl writing fanfics. Jeezums, I don't own MR, kay?

Claimer: I do own this plot, this idea, and 206 bones. None of the above may be removed.

Max's Point of View

Please, God, if there is a God, kill me now and let this insane headache stop! I fell to the ground, clutching my head in agony, attempting to keep my brains from gushing out. Hating myself for being so weak, I attempted to stand.

"Max," I heard Fang say distantly, "Max. Stop."

"What is it?" Iggy demanded irritably with characteristic scalpel-like delicacy.

Fang grimaced. "Another headache, I think. Ig, can you take over watch so I can find somewhere safe for Max to recover before she decides to pretend she's fine and almost kill herself again?"

"Yeah."

And so, despite my weak protests, Fang scooped me up with annoying ease and took off.

"This is completely unnecessary," I snapped with as much force as I could muster—not much.

"Please," he smirked, "you love this, remember? You looove me." Smugness. Definitely smugness. I wrestled against his arms, trying to free myself. Still weak from my brain attack, I couldn't, so I was instead left to gripe discontentedly, my only weapon being my masterfully and manipulative sarcastic comments. Only my head hurt too much to talk.

Gradually, the pain began to ease, until it was no longer an agonizing, savage, beastly pain, but just a dull annoyance—the norm for me, just worried about those little things…Fly Boys…Iggy blowing up the gear…Itex…being captured by white coats…our expiration date…the Voice…Anne…if Ari was really dead this time…how I felt about Fang…Erasers…who to trust…finding our parents…and then there was the ever present and increasingly frustrating "save the world Max" thing.

"Headache gone?"

"No," I said, glaring, "he's right here, carrying me."

Nudge's Point of View

So, Fang and Max…okay, so like, they've been gone for a long time; I'd be worried, actually I am kinda worried, I mean, I hope they're okay. Especially Max—those headaches seem like they would totally kill, but Max is super-tough, and so is Fang, so they'll be fine.

Speaking of Max and Fang, (A/N: Yes, speaking, Nudge tends to do that a lot. Heh, heh. I love Nudge.) I've been getting some pretty intense vibes coming from them lately. They're sooooooooo crazy for each other, and sooooooooo perfect together. I mean, so much that I kinda wanna just grab them and be like, "What's taking you so long?!?"

Of course, they're way too stubborn to do anything about it, which makes it even more annoying, They're so stubborn. (A/N: You've probably noticed, this peice from Nudge is pure fluff.)

Iggy's Point of View, or rather, hear/touch/smell/taste, heh heh.

I was listening to the sounds around me, trying to orient myself, when the Nudge channel began broadcasting.

"You know where I wanna go, Ig? I wanna go to Backyard Burger, and get cobbler, like, blackberry cobbler, with ice cream, lots and lots of ice cream, and then Bojangles—once I heard this guy say Booh-haan-glayz and it was real-"

Somehow she managed to squeeze all that into a single breath, stopping only as her mouth came in conflict.

With my hand.

"My God, Nudge, my ears are bleeding," I groaned.

"Sorry," she said, but she obviously didn't mean it, because she immediately opened her mouth to kick start another song-, commercial-, and breath-free segment of the Nudge Channel.

"Max says shut up," I said in a desperate attempt to shut her up.

Apparently Hypothetical Situation But Undeniably Realistic Max (HSBURM)—otherwise known as Hasbuuhrm—wasn't enough for Nudge.

Finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I went to find something to blow up.

I love blowing stuff up.

Today, "stuff" amounted to a large bomb I had been hiding in my boxers. Yes, I said boxers. And yes, sometimes I am afraid they will spontaneously combust and blow my nuts off, but blown-off nuts are nothing compared to a pissed off Max.

So the boxers work great.

Anyway, I pulled the bomb out and...well, blew it up. Contrary to popular belief, there's not much else you can do with bombs.

Angel called my name, I lost focus, there was a burst of pain, and everything went black.

A/N: Review, please!