Come Home

"Come home, Fang."

Those three words could change everything; they could bring back the missing piece that had sent Max crumbling to pieces, sent the rest of the flock spiraling into their own forms of depression, that had ruined the pieces of a family that had been slipping away for months already.

Only he wasn't there to hear them.

The night was cold; the chilling winter air seeped through her thin winter jacket as she sat on the back porch, her knees pulled up to her chest as she gazed up at the stars in the night sky. Any other time she would have been talking a mile a minute about nothing of any particular importance, anything to fill the void of silence that had overtaken their lives. No one was here to listen to her anymore; she hadn't said a word in two days, a world record for her. She bit her lip hard, already cut up and bleeding, squeezing her eyes shut tightly to force out the image of that dark-haired boy who had always held a piece of her heart.

It was only a little-kid crush; Fang was her older brother and nothing more, and she knew that. But regardless of her feelings, the hole in her heart was very real, and it ached with a distant longing that she knew would never be satisfied again. She felt his absence in a physical sense, a hollowness inside of her that no words could ever fill.

She lost count of the days; he could have been gone for weeks or months, maybe even longer. It didn't matter anymore; she wrapped her arms around herself tightly, in a sad attempt to chase out the chill that had settled deep into her very bones. The silence that had once only made her uncomfortable now terrified her; she felt like if she let one loose word slip, anything that would conjure up his memory, she would shatter any hope of things ever returning to 'normal'; as if she even knew what that word meant anymore, or ever had.

Her wings ached and burned inside of her jacket, begging to be let out, to stretch out free and infinite in the skies above her. Even flying no longer held the simple pleasure that it once had with the six of them; when Fang had left, he had taken with him her desire to speak, her desire to laugh, her desire to fly. He'd taken away her everything; he'd stolen away Max, who refused to even look her in the eyes anymore. He'd taken away Iggy, who spent most of his time sulking around the house or blowing things up, his face a twisted mask of rage. He'd taken away Angel, who sat by Max's bedside and cried. He'd even taken away the Gasman, who followed in the footsteps of his best friend, now nothing more than a walking ghost.

Despite it all, however, she could feel no resentment towards him. In a twisted way, he had done what he believed to be right. She was only twelve years old, but she was old enough to understand that it wasn't his fault, at least not entirely. She was still young enough, however, to have to pin the blame on someone else. She felt like if she let it go unchecked, let it build up inside of her as she wondered what to do next, she would burst.

And so she turned her eyes to Dylan.

She knew distantly that it wasn't really his fault; Fang's decision had been his own, and though Dylan may have contributed to it, they all had, really. Wasn't she one of the ones who had sent him and Max away before? The thought sent a pang through her chest and she made herself smaller, curling up tighter as if to shield herself from it.

There were times when she'd felt alone before; but there was always a waiting set of arms or understand eyes to carry her back to her own body. Now, though, she had to find her own way back. She felt lost, caught in between the here and now and whatever lay beyond; she wanted to go after Fang, but she knew that it would do no good. She couldn't drag him back, even if she could manage to find him in the first place. She felt a burning in her eyes as she conjured up his image behind her eyelids, as clear as if he were standing right in front of her. She pushed the tears back, but she slowly realized that she had no one to hide them from now. The wetness on her cheeks, somehow both warm and freezing at the same time, was foreign to her; it'd been months since she'd allowed herself to cry, over him or anything else. They all seemed to come now, though, in one of her weakest moments.

Only she wasn't alone.

The footsteps were faint at first, but as they drew closer she quickly turned her eyes upward, angrily wiping away her tears with the back of her hand and turning her face away from whoever it was who was approaching to hide her still quivering lips. Whoever it was, they wouldn't stop; she had to find a way to comfort herself, as she had for what felt like ages now. She had to take care of herself, just like everyone else was. She encased herself in glass, both strong and yet fragile at the same time. It would only take the slightest push to break her.

She heard the creaking of the wooden floorboards as someone sat down next to her, but she still didn't turn to face them. She stiffened up as she felt a hand on her back, a shiver running down her spine; the gesture made her want to burst out into tears and scream at the same time.

The hand wasn't familiar as it slowly traced circles on her back, rubbing her wings the way that Max always had. But it wasn't her sitting behind her; the hand was shaking slightly, unsure and unsteady, as if it didn't quite know what it was doing. She bit down harder on her lip, ignoring the steady flow of blood that ran down her chin and collected on the deck underneath her feet. Despite the naivety of the gesture, it was still comforting. She felt herself relaxing under the touch, her muscles unknotting and her puffy eyes feeling heavier than before.

"I'm sorry, Nudge."

Those three words were all it took to break the glass. She shattered and fell into the arms of a very confused and nervous Dylan, who continued to stroke her back until the moon hung directly above them in the sky, illuminating her tear-streaked cheeks as she slowly turned her eyes up to him. It took her a moment to register what had just occurred, and when she did she quickly sat up, almost falling backwards out of his arms. She was still trembling as she wrapped her arms around herself once more, the biting cold making its way deeper. His eyes, though still strange and new to her, were filled with concern and confusion. She watched almost distantly as he reached out his hand and wiped the now dried blood off of her chin, his hand still unsteady. She flinched and recoiled at his touch, resentment like poison bubbling up to the surface of her emotions. Here he was, the one person sent to take Fang's place, the very person she was shedding tears for, trying to make her feel better. It was ironic in a way; their entire lives were.

She could see the visible hurt flash in his eyes as he slowly lowered his hand back to his side, watching her with a deep frown on his face. He was the one that she'd ignored for the past few months; while she watched the rest of her family grieve in their own ways, each separate and distant from her, she had never once stopped to think of him. And why should she have? It was his fault, all his fault, that Fang was gone. She had to blame him; she had to blame him so she wouldn't blame herself. She was already being pulled down; she didn't need the last shove to send her tumbling over the edge.

"I don't know what to do," He said softly, pulling her out of her reverie. She slowly turned her mistrusting brown eyes up to meet his blue ones, and she saw reflected in them everything that she was feeling; pain, confusion, guilt. His hands were trembling slightly as he spoke, something that anyone who wasn't looking would never even notice. "I don't know how to fix things."

'You can't,' She wanted to scream at him. 'This is all your fault. It's your fault that I feel like this, your fault that Max screams in her pillow at night, your fault that Angel cries.' But she didn't; the words wouldn't come, no matter how much she wanted them to. For once, Nudge had no words to speak. But he did, and they kept coming, as if he were trying to take her role onto his own shoulders.

"I want to make sense of this," He was saying, no longer meeting her eyes; he had his gaze focused on something distant, something that she couldn't see. "I want to make things better, but I don't know how." Again, all of the words, all of the smart comments she could make came to mind, but not to her tongue; she couldn't speak. He was still staring off beyond her, the tremble in his hands increasing. He had seemed to sure of himself before; seeing him like this made her uncomfortable. She couldn't scream at him, vent out her frustrations when he was like this.

A sudden gust of wind sent his hair flying around his face, which looked pained, as if he were being pulled in two separate directions and torn down the middle. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, noting with distant surprise that he had no jacket on; he had to have been freezing, but if he was, he didn't show it. He still seemed distracted, infatuated by something that she refused to see.

"I'm sorry, Nudge," He said again softly, and she turned her eyes away from him. The moon still hung low in the sky, the few stars that she could see were beautiful; after spending so much of her life sleeping outdoors, she had come to appreciate the beauty of them. She was sad when she looked out her window at night and they were no longer visible.

The first snowflake landed on her nose, sending a shock of cold down her spine as it slowly melted away into nothing. She hesitated before glancing over at Dylan, who finally seemed to have snapped out of his daze and was watching the snow fall with a blank expression on his face, his hands folded together tightly in his lap to still their trembling. The first snow-fall of the year was always beautiful; she watched as the flakes landed one by one, each one unique, showing its true colors before melting away forever. Just like her family.

Somehow she found herself sitting closer to Dylan, until their shoulders were touching. His skin was freezing; she wasn't thinking as she moved closer, transferring some of her own warmth over to him. She didn't look at him as he hesitantly placed his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder, which felt similar to what she imagined using an ice cube as a pillow would. Instead, she kept her eyes on the snow falling in a flurry around them in a slow dance, finally looking forward to what he had seen that she was blind to.

A future.

OOC: This isn't pairing them in a romantic way. Just thought I'd throw that out there. In fact, I dislike Dylan. A lot. But he's useful sometimes. ^^ Review? I hope this wasn't too OOC. D: