chapter one
Author's Note: A short spur-of-the-moment fic. In the midst of coming up with something long term I created this. Doesn't really have a storyline or a plot or a purpose, but it tugged at me to write it. So... here goes. -lys phillips
Angel has died in battle. After a time of mourning, Max remembers how Ari came back from the dead. How Jeb revived his son. She presents this idea to the Flock giving them new hopes that maybe Angel could be revived too. Only Fang has his doubts, but Max ignores this, as she is struck with a new goal. Jeb has to say yes. Jeb has to bring back her baby. There's no question, and there is no "what if". Jeb brought back Ari from the land of the dead, he had to resurrect Angel too. The Flock journeys to Jeb's house, where they wait at his door. Max cradles Angel in her arms, and Fang rings the doorbell. He's still dreading what will inevitably happen next, but there's nothing he can do about it now. The doorknob turns, and Jeb answers the door with a "Hello...?"
"Bring her back,"
Max was trying not to cry. I tried not to bawl myself. It amazed me how much we were able to keep it together, the five of us still alive. Maybe it had something to do with the huge crying fest we had succumbed to last night. I had done enough crying to last me several years and I hoped I never had to cry like that again. More importantly, I hoped I never had to see any of my Flock cry like that again. It looked like Max was getting ready to though. Her arms, which held the slaughtered body of our sister-by-wings, shook animatedly. I touched her elbow gently, and the shaking slowed. Max threw me a grateful glance that was shadowed by one of deep pain. She then turned back to Jeb and ordered him again.
"Bring her back,"
This time she said it with more force, and her plea finally triggered an effect blazoned deeply on Jeb's face. Or maybe it was the effect of seeing Angel's dead and bruised body hanging limply in Max's arms. Jeb's eyes kept darting from Angel to Max and then back again. I could understand his dilemma. He didn't know where to look. On the one hand one of his babies lay dead, helpless. Her curly blond hair highlighted with blood, her body badly scarred. On the other hand was Max, her pain-stricken face enough to crack the mightiest pillar. She was shaking again which further added to her perfect picture of sorrow.
Jeb, not knowing where to turn his gaze, settled for me. Most likely because I was the only one whose face wasn't the epitome of heartbroken. I almost laughed. He had no idea how hard it was for me to keep a even face. To be that close to the lifeless body of someone I'd shared so many years of my life with, and not break. To have memories of us, our Flock as a whole, and then look at Angel and realize that we could never be whole again.
No, I was not going to be his escape route. I narrowed my eyes until Jeb got the idea that I wasn't going to be his shelter. Surveying the rest of the Flock Jeb realized that they wouldn't either.
He still hadn't given us an answer. Probably because he knew that the truth wasn't something that Max wanted to hear. I knew what the answer was going to be even before we set off for the quest to Jeb's house. But I hadn't the bravery to tell Max either. How did you tell a mother that her baby was gone forever, and not even the maddest of scientists could reverse it? You couldn't. You'd have to be without a heart to be able to look into Max's anguished face and not feel like the world had swallowed you up as well.
Max repeated herself once more. She said it now as though if Jeb didn't do what she asked, Max would kick open the door and give Angel the operation herself. Never mind the fact that she was a fifteen year old mutant with a fourth grader's education. She was that desperate. The wild look of Help Me in her eyes told me that; so did the way she held onto Angel's body as though the tighter Angel was to Max's chest, the more chance she had of coming back, as though if Max loosened her grip at all, Angel would have no chance; and the way she sounded, as though she would cave in at any moment, when she asked Jeb again, a final time to—
"Bring her back."
Thankfully Jeb did answer, but like I said it wasn't the answer that Max needed. "Max I-- I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."
"Don't say that," Max was crying now. I could tell that she was trying to hold it in, but failing. She was pleading with Jeb. Pleading for him to save her baby. "Please, you have to try." She was begging, and Max only begged as a last resort. When all else fails, throw pride to the wind, get down on your knees and implore all you can. It was our last chance. Angel's last chance.
A cold fist siezed my heart making me want to tear away from this awful scene. To hear his answer again ('I'm sorry', 'No'), was to walk straight into the line of a dozen daggers. To ask Erasers to rip me apart with their lethal claws and saliva encompassed fangs. Just like they did Angel.
Nudge buried her head into Iggy's chest and held onto him tightly. In turn, Iggy gripped her. They were each other's rocks, the only thing keeping them from losing it like Max who toed the line of insanity.
The Gasman grabbed the end of Max's shirt and clutched it tightly. He bit his lip so hard that blood stained his otherwise pale face. Blood mixed with tears as he cried for his lost sister. We'd all searched for family at one point. He'd had it, and now it had been taken away from him.
"Max," With that one word Jeb communicated all of the weight he was carrying, looking down at Angel's disheveled body. "There is nothing I can do."
Max didn't like that. The Gasman hated it even more. "LIAR!" he cried, "You're a liar! You brought Ari back! Bring back my sister! Bring her back!"
While Max had pleaded with Jeb, the Gasman was all orders. His commands for Jeb to bring Angel back from the dead rang out so that even I was afraid of the little guy. He moved forward in an effort to make his ten year old body look more intimidating. He pointed an accusatory finger and balled a threatening fist.
But Jeb's answer was still, "No."
The Gasman wouldn't take that; he continued to cry out for justice. Max rolled Angel in tighter to her chest, and bowed her head so that her tear-streaked cheek touched Angel's blood-stained one. And then she screamed.
"Arrggghhh!" She gritted her teeth and screamed again. When she screamed a third time, I decided I couldn't take it. Her screams and the Gasman's demand for the operation wrapped themselves around me, crushed me, and tore me apart. Seeing their pain on their faces was nothing compared to hearing it; having to listen to the verbalized anguish of my Flock was agony.
Did he see what was happening? Did he see how he was destroying them—us?
Even after Max's screams stopped, and the Gasman's orders subsided to pleas, and then to a stifled sob, I heard the echoes in my head. They were echoes, but it no way were they less troubling.
I volunteered for the less than easy job of asking Jeb for a final time if there was anything he could do. Jeb met my eyes for the second time that day, but this time it was I imploring something from him. Please, please. "What you did for Ari," I said, my voice hard with the burden of trying to keep away some of the shakiness brought on by pain, "Why can't you do that for Angel?"
"It's not that simple," he stated as though that would keep our prayers at bay. He didn't answer my question, and his response made little sense to me. He knew that he'd dodged the true question, he had the sense to look guilty. He'd tiptoed around giving me a straight answer. Why? I didn't like this.
Max decided on not liking it either. She exposed her wings with a rush of wind, and the Gasman stepped back knowing that Max was about to take off. She lifted herself into the air, curling up into the smallest ball she could muster while still able to fly. Her pattern was crooked from sobs, but it's not like she cared. She didn't have a target ending. Where could she go? Whether here, or Australia, the pain wouldn't end. Destination didn't matter; it was distance she sought, getting as far away from Jeb and his apologies as possible. The Gasman shared these sentiments and followed suit, but not before sending a venomous glower Jeb's way and saying things that, in any other situation, Max would've punished him for. Nudge and Iggy had to break apart for their take off, but once in the air they linked again, their tip feathers brushing each other on down beats.
Jeb sent me a sorrowful glance filled with words unspoken as though pleading with me to understand. But how could I answer his plea, when he didn't mine? I extracted my wings and pretended not to hear his last, "I'm sorry," as I took off into the skies, following what was left of my Flock.