This story was inspired by chapter of 62 of Angel: a MR novel, where Dylan kisses her on the Eiffel Tower. Excerpts from said chapter should be pretty obvious. This takes place exactly after Angel: a MR novel ends. Only not after the… epilogue? teaser? chapter?... JP gives where Angel is actually alive (never saw that coming *eye roll*) and about to be brainwashed again. This picks up where we saw Max last.

Ok, I can't resist a little rant here, but… Am I the only one who finds the whole Dylan "genetically engineered to imprint on Max" too… paranormal? Twilight-y? And find the heir to the world thing too silly? And the making a baby together thing too… ok, I hate to say it, but fanfiction-esque?

Also: nothing personal if you like Twilight. :) This comment serves only for chapter one….

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Nor do I wish to. Why do you think I write fanfiction? Obviously, MR doesn't cut if for me, as awesome as the basic idea is…

I remember years ago

Someone told me I should take

Caution when it comes to love

I did, I did

-Impossible, by Shontelle

Chapter 1 of 6

"Kind Of Beautiful"

Flying was the second best thing in the world. Preempted only by Mom's chocolate chip cookies, of course. But flying was incredible. You never felt hopeless when flying – how can you when you're a scientific miracle, millions of miles above those unfortunate enough not to have wings?

Tortured into existence being beside the point, obviously.

Flying wasn't cutting it for me now, though.

"Well, for starters… you're kind of beautiful."

The words slipped back into my head and wouldn't get out. This was what shock did. It latched onto anything – anything – else, because you couldn't handle the truth. Truth like Angel, my baby, was dead.

"Well, for starters… you're kind of beautiful."

I didn't care for clothing, style or make up. That was Nudge. All I wanted was my family safe, and I'd be a happy camper. All which led me to being labeled a tomboy. Really, I was just a normal girl with her priorities straight. Everything in my life was torn down to the bare bones of happiness: family, friendship, safety and love. Those were what I cared about.

Yet every girl had insecurities and dreams. Which was why I was obsessing with Dylan's comment.

Not because I was in shock. Not because Angel was dead. She wasn't.

Was I beautiful?

Oh, yes, the incredible, indescribable Maximum Ride was being… insecure. How far the great have fallen.

Regardless of if I was beautiful or not, I'd been caught up in the entire situation on the Eiffel Tower. Which is why I, an emotional wreck at the time, let Dylan kiss me. But I'd meant what I'd said to Dylan. Though how I'd managed to have it then, I don't know.

"I guess you're too adolescent to understand that girls want you to like them for who they are, not how they look."

Was that what imprinting was? Something based on the purely physical? And that was it? The whole thing was physical? Yes, it's nice to be called beautiful, but it's shallow after a certain point. Shallow physical beauty gets you nowhere if you delight in kicking old ladies down the stairs. What about morals? Beliefs? Opinions?

Would Dylan still love me if I kicked old ladies down stairs?

Here's what hits me about what Dylan said.

Because Angel wasn't dead. No. I wasn't in shock. I wasn't.

Here's what makes my head spin and makes me want to scream.

He never said anything other than I'm beautiful.

None. He said "for starters" but didn't go on. Me being beautiful was the only reason he got out before he just had to kiss me…

If he's my other half, why couldn't he figure out what I needed most right than was encouragement? Some form of pep talk? Not a—albeit mind blowing—purely physical kiss that made everything more complicated. Dylan was sweet. But it was a sweet bordering on obsessively stalker creepy.

If I was old and wrinkled – if I lived that long – would Dylan still like me? Or would he turn into a servant, still imprinted on me, living to serve me since I was no longer "kind of beautiful"?

Who wants to be only "kind of" beautiful anyway? Not exactly the most flattering compliment, if you think about it.

Fang would've understood. Fang would've held me close and told me how good a leader I was, even if I wasn't perfect. He would've told me how mature I was to let Angel grow up and how (like he said so long ago at Anne Walker's house) I was going to be a good mom someday.

But he had Maya now.

I refused to admit the thought bit and gnawed at me. I refused to admit how it kept stabbing at me even with a band aid over it. I refused to admit that Angel was dead, and that normally this wouldn't bug me.

Fang had Maya and I had… Dylan. But did I want him?

To be honest, I pitied him a little. He didn't get a choice with the whole imprinting thing. But he was still responsible for confusing me, right? If he was my soul mate/other half, wouldn't he know that kissing me right then wasn't so helpful for my life?

This was freaking ridiculous. I sounded like one of those girls stuck in a love triangle!

~Bob The Page Break, at your service!~

We – Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, Dylan and Ang – no, don't think about her! – flew in silence from Paris, its flames at our back. We kept up our hushed flight until Nudge – who else? – broke the silence into a million pieces.

"What next, Max?"

My mind moved with all the speed of molasses.

"We…" My steady wing beating rhythm hitched a moment and I fell a foot before stopping myself.

My throat felt tight, the air thin. I forced thoughts of Angel away.

She was fine. She was fine.

I flew a few feet quietly before I felt Dylan's wing brush against mine. I jerked away without looking at him and hardened myself. I had a job to do. I'd freaked and ranted to myself long enough about him and Fang.

"First," I said strongly, as if I hadn't stopped before, "we find Ella, Mom and maybe even Jeb."

If he were alive or not.

"And then?" Iggy asked, blind eyes on me even as he flew.

All eyes on me… No pressure or anything.

I could do this. I was Maximum Ride. Heck, my job in life was to save the world, not pull a Bella Swan.

I smiled. The wind in my hair, sun on my wings, and Paris in flames just behind us mutant freaks, I smiled and laughed in the world's scarred face.

"And then," I said. "We save the world."

Chapter 1 of 6 down! Thoughts are appreciated. Just so you know, the pacing and chapter lengths will be… how do I put this? Some chapters will be five pages long, others about two? Something like that. The pacing is rather funky. Please bear with me, though. :)

Reviews make the world go around! (Money too, but never mind…)

All my platonic and non-creepy love,

SS