AN: No, it's not The Frozen Girl, I have writer's block and a cold, and kinda' just came up with this a few minutes ago. Or however long ago I started typing it. Meh.

Disclaimer: James Patterson owns Dylan, the scientist, and the flock. I own a random experiment Dylan mentions. She is up to your imagination, they all are, I don't have real descriptions.

Weird that I'm defending Dylan, considering I created the Down With Dylan Movement. Except it's not, 'cause the Movement applies only if he's a jerkfaced idiot or an oblivious Max fanboy or something.

IP: -cough-

IFX: If we weren't sick, I'd whale on ya' for defending that, that, that thing. -cough-

Me: Yeah, well, let's not completely hate him just yet, okay?

Just read while I wait for some soup or something.

Dylan cowered in his dog crate, the Whitecoats were rushing around in a panic. The little nine-year-old boy tried to make himself smaller as his crate was picked up in the confusion. A Whitecoat's face appeared in front of the bars. "Don't worry. I'm going to get you out of here." His voice seemed kind, and suddenly, the fresh night air was all around them, and they were moving towards a car.

The Whitecoat opened Dylan's cage and guided him into the passenger side of the van. It seemed to be a mini-van used transportation of scientists to airports for faraway meetings. The boy couldn't sit right due to the wings protruding from his back, but he managed to buckle the seatbelt. Every instinct he had screamed at him to get away from that awful building, and it seemed to him this scientist wanted to help.

The man got in the other side, sat behind the steering wheel, and floored it, buckling as he went. The van screeched out of the area, quickly creating a large gap of space between the horrible facility and its runaways. With every twist and turn of the road the two felt safer, the dust leaving an invisible trail on the dirt road behind them.

Five years had passed since that day, and Dylan had stayed with his savior every step of the way. However, everything changed when the man had sat him down to watch a special news report. It was about a group of avian mutant hybrids, much like Dylan himself. They were apparently called the flock, and they were doing air shows for a group called the CSM. It interested Dylan greatly, how they were accepted by most people with great ease. But his gut instinct told him that that was not why he was meant to watch.

"See the leader, there, flying in front?" The man asked, gesturing to the girl in the lead. "Her name is Max, short for Maximum Ride. Dylan, you were created for a purpose. One purpose in particular." Dylan stared at the man who was like a father to him, he trusted his judgment. Even so, he wanted him to quit stalling and tell him his purpose in life the reason for his existence. "Dylan, you are Max's perfect other half."

Dylan's blood turned to ice in his veins, the color draining from his face. It couldn't be true, it simply couldn't! "No. N-no. No, no, no, no, NO!" He gazed into the eyes of the man he owed his life to. The only answers he saw in them were a great sorrow. He had known about Dylan's promise, and he had waited until now to tell him?!

Dylan shook his head, he couldn't believe this. He had to admit, Max did have a certain grace about her, but Dylan couldn't see her as more than a friend. He lost himself in his thoughts, studying the patterns in which the avians flew. He noted that the boy in all black flew closer to Max than the others, constantly watching her with protective eyes. The movement of his wings, his posture told Dylan that this boy wished for Max to be his, and though no human would think it, he had claimed her as his own.

Dylan slowly released the tension in his muscles as he continued to watch the boy move in ways that telegraphed his stance with Max. A slow breath escaped his lungs, he still had a chance to keep his promise. He had been so small, they both had, but he remembered every detail. Her eyes gently meeting his, her wounds slowly closing, her desperate need for one constant in her life. He wanted to be that constant. "I will never betray you. Never." Her eyes fluttering closed as sleep took her.

To this day Dylan intended to keep his promise. He would choose his own purpose, forge his own destiny. "Dylan, I'm sorry." The man's hand was on his shoulder. Dylan shrugged it off.

"Don't be." He stood up. He would not betray her.

He would keep his promise if it killed him.

AN: Okay, it's short and has nothing to do with my other story, but there it is. How'd ya' like it?

IP: Ugh...

Me: Ow, throat burns. There was a point here...

R&R? Thanks. I should be working on the story I haven't updated in like, two weeks. -sigh- I'll do that now. See ya'. -cough-

Tell me if there's errors, I'm not gonna' try to SpellCheck with a cold. I can't spell in good health, but now? Agh. Oh, please join the Down With Dylan Movement, we make Dylan a real, non-fax-interrupting character. You don't have to hate him, you can if you want, but if he's an idiot in book 6, he's so dead. Don't know who Dylan is? FlockUpdates on YouTube made a video of the next book's summary, watch it and gasp.