A/N: My first MR fic, so enjoy…
Disclaimer: I don't claim.
Skin: N. The thing we live in; we can hide behind it but it's the one thing we can't escape from.
Prologue
You, as an outsider, can probably look back on the events and say, 'well, no wonder, it really was quite obvious." I bet you could pinpoint exactly where it started, but when you're inside the beast, it's hard to see passed its belly. When you're living it, day by day, it's harder than you think to see the clues he left. But, I suppose, that was probably because none of us wanted to see them, so made ourselves blind even when one of the people we were closest to was crying out for help. You can hear about things like this happening to other people, thousands of miles away, but you never really expect it to happen to you. Never expect it to happen inside your family.
Chapter One: Fang- August
I couldn't believe it.
The picture was purely hideous; I nearly threw up just looking at it. Or, more specifically, what was in the picture.
Me.
God, the one picture of me that any of us-as in the flock- had and it was so grotesque that I yearned to rip it up and burn the pieces to ashes; then scatter the ashes in the sea for good measure, just to be sure that nobody would ever be able to put it back together and look at the repulsive picture.
I couldn't stop looking at it, even though it was sickening. I stared at it, hating my weakness as I drank in desperately every revolting detail.
It was me, from the side, so you could see that I was very far from slim. Ugh.
And I was smiling. I'm not entirely sure why I'm smiling, but I do remember that Max and Angel took that picture together; and I'd do anything for Angel when she shows me Bambi Eyes, and Max, well… I'd give her my life if she asked me to, and I wouldn't regret it either.
I looked down at the picture once more and anger hissed in my ear, urging me to tear the paper into thousands of tiny pieces and never look at it again. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn't. I needed that picture to make sure that I could take it out of my pocket, and remember why I was going to do this, so I stuffed it deep into a pocket and closed my mind from it.
But the ghastly image was burned onto my retinas, and it hovered in front of my eyes, ghostlike and imperishable. I shuddered involuntarily, and with the convulsion came determination.
Something was going to change. Soon.
I didn't have to be so ugly forever; I could change. And I would, whatever it cost me.
Chapter Two: Fang – October
"Fang are you sure you're alright?" Max's voice was shrill with worry; and I almost smiled.
Almost.
"Fine." I murmured as I straightened, wiping my lips with the back of my hand, wordlessly accepting the water bottle Max held out for me; half emptying it as I tried to rid my mouth of the lingering, acrid taste of stomach acid. The sight- and smell- of hotdogs, cookies and general sustenance swirled together splattered on the tree trunk was enough the make me dry retch. I leaned against the tree wearily, concentrating furiously on inhaling and exhaling, stubbornly pushing the oppressing odour away as it threatened to overpower me again.
Stealing myself, I turned-ignoring the wave of nausea as I did so- and faced the others. Their expressions ranged widely from concern to trepidation, and none of them would look at me in the eye. I was the mighty, invincible dark horse Fang; I didn't need to be looked after.
But then again, mighty dark horses didn't usually throw up- three days in a row.
I sauntered over to them, my tread not faltering as I silently chucked the water bottle at Max- she caught it easily, her avian-enhanced reflexes kicking in automatically. Without pausing, I increased my speed and launched myself off of the cliff edge that ringed the clearing we were grouped in, the wind whistling through the black, onyx-tinged feathers of my outstretched wings and lifting me skywards.
See? I thought silently as my wings made me surge upwards where the others were waiting. There's nothing wrong with you Fang; no sense in worrying Max. Don't let her know .Ever.
Max
"Max?" I turned slightly in mid air to see Angel looking at me, unease written all over her face. "I'm worried about Fang."
I slowed and gave her my full, undivided attention. Granted that wasn't saying much, when the blood-crazed Erasers hunting us down and boring us to death with their feeble fighting tactics and wack-job scientists trying to inject coloured dye into our bloodstreams to monitor our heart rate and circulatory systems. Not to mention the highly annoying, highly unwanted Voice in my head. And speaking of which, I hadn't been unfortunate enough to hear from for around-
-Hello Max.
Wow voice! A whole minute without you butting in and ruining my already screwedup life!
-Sarcasm doesn't become you Maximum.
Yeah well, neither did around- the-loop white-coats stabbing me with needles, but hey, they went right along and did it anyway!
Silence greeted my retort.
"Why sweetheart?" I fought the rising panic as Angel spoke.
"I can't read his mind anymore," She whispered quietly. "It's like he's blocked me- I can feel his mind, but I can't access it."
"Well," I said, choosing my words carefully. "Maybe it's nothing, and you were just tired when you tried to read his mind."
"Yeah…" Angel's dubious look told me that she clearly didn't believe a word of the bogus stuff coming out of my mouth. Damn. "Can we go to New York again?"
I stared, blinking slowly at her for several seconds, flustered by the abrupt change of subject. "Uh, yeah okay. I guess."
"Great!" Angel grinned and twirled away, looking like a six-year-old angel. As pre usual. "Hey, guys! We're going to New York again!"
The flock stared at her, then at me. "What?" I asked, crossing my arms and scowling. "It was totally the plan all along."
"Yeah," Iggy muttered to Gazzy. "Just like her terrible cooking skills are intentional."
I flicked him with my finger and stalked off, putting Pissed Off Max mode to good use.
August
Jesus, I have no idea what the hell is going on with Fang. We've been flying almost indefinitely for the past two days, and whenever we stop to sleep or eat, he insists on taking the first watch and eats as little as possible. He says he's just caught some sort of stomach bug, but we're enhanced super-humans- common colds have nothing on us. But I keep thinking, back when we were all captured; what if they injected him with some sort of new, untested disease to se if he was affected by it? Could Fang be dying? How could I help him when he won't tell what's wrong?Does he not trust me?
-This isn't about you anymore, Max. Only you can help Fang.
How am I meant to help if he won't tell me anything?
-you need to get closer to him Max. Trust him with your secrets and he'll do the same.
I trust Fang with my life, Voice. I can depend on him for anything.
- But can Fang depend on you Max?
I didn't know the answer to that.
"Voice?"
A voice like dark chocolate sounded behind me, flooding my entire body with calm- it was a voice I'd heard every day since I was six years old, when I'd first met him. I turned and slowed so our bodies were level.
"Yeah." I sighed and glanced at him. "Look, Fang, what's going on?"
He returned my gaze in that annoying, I'll-only-tell-you-what-I-want-you-to-know stare that was guaranteed to tick me off every time. "I don't know what you mean."
"Just answer the bloody question and stop being an ass."
Fang didn't reply, the only sound the adolescent banter of our flock surrounding us. I held his gaze, but soon had to drop it to stare at the blurred fields below us.
"Careful with your language, Angel might pick something up." With an extra beat of his powerful onyxy wings, he sped up and settled several metres ahead, leaving me as confused and as stressed as I was ten minutes before.
Angel- October
Okay, so maybe I had influenced Max just a teensy bit into flying to New York, but hey, she didn't exactly have a plan thought out properly in her head, so I just kinda helped out a bit. Max's thoughts are all over the place nowadays.
All her thoughts, feelings and memories are jumbled up, like badly blended soup; she's worried about finding us a place to stay, the Erasers and the creepy Voice in her head telling her what to do all the time. And she's also worried about Fang.
She's worries about him a lot.
Every thoughts she has is accompanied by an image or phrase that she has associated with Fang, and Fang's getting 'sicker'- or whatever's happening to him- every day.
But he'll be okay, 'cos he's Fang, and he never gets hurt.
Total really needs a hair-cut; his fur is always getting matted with mud and other stuff, and he been going on about 'getting it all lopped off' for weeks. I wonder if Max will let me take him to one of those cool doggie stylists who make scruffy mutts into like, glamorous poodles and stuff. And then I could try and convince him to get his eyebrows dyed blue like that super-cute dog we saw in New York…
Max
"Max, go to sleep."
I glared into the darkness as Fang ordered me to sleep; it was his watch but I couldn't relax.
Maybe it was because he was on watch that made me too alert to sleep. I didn't say anything to him, just deepened my breathing in a pathetic attempt at pretending to be asleep.
I doubt very highly that Fang bought it, but he didn't say anything.
Eventually, I must have drifted to unconsciousness, because in the next instant I was somewhere else entirely.
Darkness. Swirls of colour that melded together to make a kaleidoscope of all the aspects of a rainbow.
Then, distantly, I heard anguished cries.
The darkness receded and it took a second to realise I was in a forest. A forest of red trees.
No, I realised with horror, the trees weren't red; they were splattered with blood.
There were thousands of blood-flecked trees.
Whose blood was it?
The screams and sobs pulled me from my reverie abruptly, and without really acknowledging it, I began to walk through the forest, the trees blocking my way disintegrating subtly into nothing as I passed.
Millenniums slipped by until the bloodied trees stopped suddenly and I came to the edge of a cliff. But I didn't jump off of it, like I would if I wasn't dreaming.
Wings, it seems are no good in dreams.
Instead the scene changed until I was facing west instead. Six figures were silhouetted against the setting sun. Three were standing- one of them had another grasped in their arms protectively- and one was crouched over the sixth, which was lying limply on the earth.
My gaze zeroed in on the crouched figure's face.
It was me.
My face was glowing, so my gaze was drawn to it rather than any other part of my body. There were no tears falling down my cheeks, but it was evident that I was in a lot of pain; my face was contorted with agony, but it wasn't physical, it was emotional.
My eyes were the worst; they held nothing but pure, unadulterated pain.
And I didn't know why.
You can stop this.
My view turned to the other four figures whose mouths were moving in unison. How? I begged silently.
Stop this Maximum.
But I don't know how!
You will. One day. If you let yourself.
You're not helping, I snarled silently to the figures- that I now realised were my flock. They said nothing, only stood, wordlessly watching as the dream-me wept.
What the hell? It took me several long, cry-stricken minutes to realise Fang wasn't among the flocks' silhouettes that were ticking me off. Where was he? Why wasn't he in my dream?
Then cold dread swept through me like a freezing, lethal wave. Slowly, I turned and looked at the motionless figure that was sprawled at incomprehensible angles that made my head spin sickeningly. The pale, dead face swam in front of my retinas.
It was Fang.
Save him Maximum. He will die if you don't.
How? What am I supposed to do? I screamed, hysteria clouding my sense as the silhouettes faded, leaving only me, dream-me and the dead Fang.
He needs you Maximum. Save him or let him die.
I woke with Fang's fingers pressed over my mouth to muffle my screams.
A/N: It's really short, but I needed to leave it there. I do have a plan for this story, so don't worry, I should be updating within the next fortnight.
Review,
AT