summary: We're beautiful, she tells him, it is the world that is ugly —The black, white, and the in-between. Mostly preTAE.
notes: Features mild kid Fax (if you squint), childhood memories, & sympathetic Jeb.
notes2: This thing was sitting around half-written for the longest time I swear so sorry if some parts sound off.
.
.
.
:::::
::::: for days that swallowed us whole :::::
:::::
.
.
.
Max remembers—
They are still children—broken, guarded, wounded children—when Jeb tells them that it's going to be over soon, tells them that they're going to a new place. Somewhere better. Nicer. Safer. Turns to her and says, I'm getting all of us out of here. Tells her with such conviction that she believes him because quite frankly, he's a person she could afford to trust—trust is such a strong word, she knows, but it's not like she had other options—and his crystal blues are oh-so earnest and solemn.
It wasn't the first time he's asked them that, but it's the first time Fang had come back with more than just bruised ribs and Gazzy with dislocated shoulders. Tomorrow is Nudge's turn for a trial and there's no way she was going to have her go through the suffering Iggy had to endure and she's thinking that maybe wishes do come true.
She glances to her left at the dark haired boy behind steel bars in the cage next to hers and to the others to her right, noticing the way they're staring back at her like it's the only hope they have left. Catches Iggy's sightless—hopeful—eyes and her heart clenches.
Okay, she says finally, but it doesn't feel like victory.
They all fall asleep somewhere on the road, crowded together in the back of a van that smelled like antiseptic, old carpet, and something she can't place. She jerks awake when the van hits a pothole, accidentally elbowing the walls and groggily pushes herself up from where she'd been sleeping next to Fang, and blearily looks out a window.
It's dark and the moon is hidden behind some clouds, casting shadows on the floor and across her face. Max looks around and notices everyone else is still out cold; Iggy's slumped against the smaller form of Gazzy, Gazzy's holding Angel, Nudge is curled up on her side across from her. And Fang—
Max, she hears from her right, and she spots Fang slowly getting up from the floor, still shrouded in the shadows. Stop thinking. Your thoughts are too loud.
At least some of us still have the ability to think, she retorts, but still scoots over for him. They sit side-by-side in silence for a while, eyes trained on the back window, watching the night flash by, watching the outside world begin to blur into a mass of blue and black.
You know, it could be worse, Fang whispers after a while. We could still be rotting in that dead place, and we wouldn't really be together. Not like this, anyway.
I just want to know where we're going, she admits after she realizes that he's still waiting for an answer of some sort. Because after all this, we deserve to know.
She feels him shrug and his cold fingers intertwine with hers. Ask him in the morning. But for now, just remember what he said.
Someplace better, nicer, safer—she repeats these words over and over until the words ring hollow in her head and lose their truths.
The house is—
safe, secluded, sheltered, hidden, remote, isolated, out in the middle of nowhere—all Jeb's words. Colorado, he answers, when she turns to him, eyes hard and hands on her hips and she asks him exactly where in the U freaking SA.
One of the middle states, she says offhandedly, looking up at the house. It's kinda peculiar: Shaped like an E on its side, hanging off the side of a red canyon face and looks like it'll never hold if there was an earthquake. Kinda dangerous. Kinda beautiful. Daring. Exciting.
Fang's at her side, taking everything in— the blazing sunset to the weird spindly trees that only seemed to grow near the canyon edge to the rest of the Flock who were all gazing around in wonder—and looks straight at Jeb.
Prove it.
They sit in the shadow of the only tree with enough leaves to block out the sun right after their daily morning flight a month after they settle in. It's quiet and calm and peaceful and she finds herself thinking that maybe she's got it all wrong and they could be safe here after all. Colorado is two states away and it's not exactly the first one Whitecoats would exactly pick to start intensively searching. Besides, the canyon is absolutely breathtaking and just looking at the hawks that soar above them is enough to block out worrisome thoughts that regularly plague her mind for the time being, anyway.
I like it here, Fang murmurs, and raises a hand to point at the horizon line. I feel like I'm looking at infinity.
(I'd like to stay here forever, is what she thinks he means.)
I want to believe. I really do, she replies, and watches as Nudge and Iggy chase each other in the skies, banking and taking steep dives, joyful cries echoing off sandstone canyon walls. Gazzy pushes Angel on a tire swing some distance away and the wind carries their laughter like it's meant to be. But everything seems too perfect, you know?
(This won't last, is what he knows she means.)
I know, he tells her, and he does.
Life, Max realizes, begins to brighten up as the days go by as she braids wildflowers into Nudge's hair, watches Iggy and Gazzy race each other to build the best bomb, and smiles as Angel grows up.
She finds out that it's not exactly an unwelcome feeling and shoves Fang a little when he shoots her a look.
Somewhere between all his philosophical speeches and lessons on life do-and-don'ts, Max finds herself warming up to Jeb in ways she's only learned to guard her heart against. He teaches her how to read and attempts to show her how to cook after she asks him if she could try. He makes everyone eat the half-burnt pasta she produces for dinner but after a few more tries, pulls her aside and tells her that maybe she should leave the culinary duties to Iggy.
In short, Jeb becomes the father she's only dreamed about and she finds that she doesn't mind that she's let someone else in her carefully walled up sphere of security, doesn't mind that there's now a few splotches of color in an otherwise black and white world.
She finds out that Jeb has a fondness for telling stories and makes storytime a bedtime routine. They'll change into their pajamas, wrap themselves in blankets, and cluster together on the couch in the living room, listening to tales of thieves in cities of gold and dragons bathed in fire, rags-to-riches kind of heroes and pirate ships sailing on high seas under cloudless blue skies.
She's nestled between Iggy and Fang when he begins the story of the boy who never grew up and the girl who feared to let childhood go.
Wendy asked him where he lived, Jeb reads, and Peter replied, second star to the right and straight on 'till morning. He continues spinning a tale of an immortal land and the adventures and lessons that come with it. The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it.
Max thinks she's the only one left awake when Jeb finishes the story but Fang shifts next to her and yawns. I would've stayed in Neverland forever, he says, running a hand through shaggy black hair.
She rolls her eyes. Forever is an awfully long time, you know.
Their argument is cut short when Jeb mentions for them to carry Angel and Nudge back to their beds and they comply, followed by Jeb who carts Iggy off to his. After he tucks him in and after Fang says goodnight to her, Max manages to chase Jeb down before he closes his bedroom door.
Wait, she says, one more thing. What really happened to Wendy and Peter after that? I mean, he promises to visit her and she grew up but what—
She grew up, of course, Jeb says, but the thing is, she never forgot.
Happy Birthday, frosting on the cake reads. For Max, Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, Angel.
There's cheap numbered candles from the supermarket stuck haphazardly in the cream and Max stares at the candles for a second before Jeb lights them and tells everyone to close their eyes and make a wish. Wish for anything, he says, anything at all. Just make sure to not tell anyone what you wished for and it'll be alright.
Her candle is red with white stripes, and her eyes follow the way the flame dances, flickering brightly in the darkened dining room. Fang pokes her stomach and she pokes him back before she finally closes her eyes and clasps her hands together under the table.
I wish—
(For strength. For safety. For family, for love,
so please
let this one come true.)
They grow up and watch seasons change (as much as they can in a canyon) and she's finally let go of all her fears by the time she's thirteen.
Life, Max realizes, is something like a puzzle and she finds herself desperately trying to fill in all the missing pieces with anything she could find just because she's finally letting herself feel what she's been trying to ignore for so long.
She's never told anyone about her nightmares.
She's had them long before they even came to the E shaped house, back in the School days, but they've never tormented her for three days straight to the point she's almost terrified to fall asleep.
The nightmares never started out the same, but they all managed to end the same way, with her falling from the sky into a pool of fire. She'll always try to fly back up but by then her wings will already be burning and there will always be some other force dragging her back down and she'll scream until her ears ring and throat scorched hollow. She screams for help but nothing ever comes and then—
And then, she wake up with clammy hands and the fabric of her nightgown stuck to her back and she'll toss blankets aside to rush out of bedroom, silently opening the door to not disturb Angel or Nudge. She'll make her way to the patio door in the living room and yank it open, taking care to leave a lamp on before heading out for a much-needed nighttime flight.
This time, though, she has the pleasure of turning on the lamp and nearing having a heart attack when she spots Fang across the room, appearing behind the kitchen wall with a glass of water in hand.
Jesus, Fang, you scared me, she hisses, one hand still on the patio door handle and the other one pressed against her chest.
Evidently, he answers, taking a sip of water. So why are you going out for a—he turns and looks at the red digital numbers on the microwave—midnight flight?
Max wraps an arm around herself and shrugs.
I had a bad dream, okay?
And how long have you been having these dreams?
Her startled eyes lock with his dark ones and she blinks. She considers lying, brushing it off like it's nothing but Fang is Fang and he's always had an uncanny ability to call her bullshit and see through her imitations of confidence.
How did you know? She asks him. Getting defensive was always her main reflex.
What was it about? He counters, and he's got that look in his eyes that she knows that he's not going to let her through the patio door unless her answers him. Honestly.
I dreamed that I was dying, she finally answers, and I couldn't save myself.
He puts the glass of water down and walks so he's standing right in front of her. He's slightly taller than her and she's wondering how she's never noticed that and then he reaches for her hand that was still resting on the patio door.
I dreamed that everyone was dying, he says simply. And I couldn't save anyone.
Those dreams are the worst, she says.
I know, he replies, and they both move away from the patio door to sit on the couch and wait for the sun.
(We're beautiful, she tells him as they watch the first rays of dawn chase away the night, it is the world that is ugly.)
Everything changes after a morning flight in the summer.
Gazzy had suggested that it was time to teach Angel how to fly and they had left the house after breakfast. When they returned an hour later, there was no sign of Jeb around but there was a note saying that he'd gone to the supermarket and asked them to not burn the house down and be back by lunch.
He doesn't come back though, for lunch.
He doesn't come back at all.
So when the Erasers finally come for them, it feels like her walls have never gone away and she swears that she'll never be cheated (like this) again.
We'll pull through, Fang assures her.
(We always do.)
Max gathers her family close and lets war begin.
Angel is, for the most part, safe in the Institute. What she doesn't expect to see is Jeb standing right next to her.
Max, Jeb says, and Angel runs to her, back into her arms where she shouldn't have ever left and she should feel relief but right now, all she sees is red. The weight of betrayal weighs down on her shoulders and she can't decide if she wants to bash Jeb's skull in or choke him with all his lies.
Life, she finally realizes, is gray.
(And the puzzle pieces begin to fall away.)
Max remembers—
They are children—broken, guarded, wounded children—when Jeb first comes up with his offer of an escape to anywhere but there. She's the first to stare him down through cold steel bars and asks him how much he's getting paid for raising the hopes of already damned children and crushing them in the next second.
Because you know, wishes don't come true. Not like that, anyway.
Max expects him to turn tail and walk away and never speak of escaping again, but he comes back night after night after most of the Whitecoats have left the facility.
Something changes, then.
So when she sees him back in a white lab coat and face so blank, eyes so cold and steely, Max doesn't know what to think anymore when the full realization of what he is—was, she corrects herself—to her hits her full force and makes her weak in the knees.
She takes a few steps back into the circle of her one true family and lets Fang lace his fingers with hers, all the while staring Jeb right in the eyes like so many years before. She's stronger now, smarter and wiser.
She's learned from her mistakes, all right.
Don't lie to me, Max says flatly, and turns her back on him.
I have no father.
(And it never did feel like victory.)
notes3: I hope I did everyone justice :U
CC is always welcome & appreciated.