Disclaimer: What is a disclaimer anyways, exactly? Someone who doesn't claim? Hmm… anyways, these characters aren't mine, and the series isn't mine. I'm kind of glad for that, because sometimes I read certain fanfics and realize that they're better written than the original books. telekineticwonder's work is an example of this.

By the way, sorry it took me so long to update, my wireless internet mysteriously died and then reappeared. Hmm…

Ah well. During that time I wrote the next few chapters, but I won't post unless I get reviews.

Roughly Four Years Later

Fang woke up, and blinked at the ceiling. He still wondered at the fact that he had a ceiling, that he'd managed this wonder of getting a home for the kids. They had a home, and more importantly, they had security, a safe sense that every day they would have heat, and food, and a home, and one another. Well, they had everyone but Max. Fang's heart ached, thinking about Max. 1453 days, nearly four years had passed, and it wasn't getting any easier, living without her.

He knew he had to face the world, though, so he rolled himself out of bed and put on a shirt, then went into the room next door to kick Iggy and Gazzy awake. He opened the door, and was appalled by the mess, not to mention the smell. He reached one cautious foot into the nest of blankets and dirty socks in one corner and poked Gazzy awake, and just threw a shoe at Iggy's leg, which was hanging off of the bed in the opposite corner.

"Wha'? Huh?"

"It's a new day. Get up and face it." He said, then crossed the hall to the girls' room. It, at least, was cleaner, and it smelled like Nudge's perfume, which was a slight improvement to Iggy and Gazzy's dirty socks, in his opinion. The walls were a light blue, and the ceiling was the same color, painted with fluffy white clouds. In amongst the clouds, so small to be barely visible, were six bird kids. Six. Just looking at it made his heart hurt just that little bit more, so he tried not to. Instead, he looked at Nudge. She was fifteen now, and absolutely beautiful. She was the one who had painted the ceiling, she was into art now, especially painting. Fang gently shook her shoulder, and her eyes opened.

"Morning. Time to get up." He said. Nudge nodded sleepily, then stumbled off to the bathroom, to shower. Fang turned then to Angel. She was looking at him, looking as if she had just woken up. She was ten, he realized, growing up way too fast. She smiled sadly at him, then got out of bed and gave him a big hug. Fang hugged her back, stroking her hair. He could usually keep Angel out of his mind, but he hadn't noticed she was awake, and now she'd already heard him. After a moment, she pulled away, and Fang walked out of the room, leaving her to get dressed.

Fifteen minutes later, everyone had made it to the kitchen, except Nudge. She was still in the bathroom, blow drying her hair, by the sound of it. She always spent ages getting ready. Thank God that their house had two bathrooms, or no one else would ever get in there. Iggy, in pajama pants and a t-shirt, was making scrambled eggs, while Angel, fully dressed, toasted and buttered most of a loaf of bread. Gazzy sat in the corner seat of the breakfast nook, half asleep, still in his pajamas. Fang set the table, and Gazzy hauled himself up and got out juice. Nudge sailed into the room just as they were sitting down, with her hair perfect, her clothes completely matching, and her little bit of makeup applied with precision. She sat down in her spot next to Angel, and started chattering about her latest series of paintings, ones of people as angels. She asked everyone if they would sit for her, and got various answers, from Iggy's "yeah, that'd be cool," to Fang's "not if you paid me". Angel reminded everyone that she had a ballet class after school and wouldn't be home until 4:30, while Gazzy stared into the distance, the way people do when they haven't quite woken up yet. Iggy and Nudge cleared the table, then Fang sent them all off to finish getting ready for school, while he did the dishes. Fang and Iggy were eighteen, but Fang had worked his butt off for a year, finishing high school a year early, so he could get a job, so he could support the kids. He made expensive, handmade furniture for a guy who had been doing it for years, but was getting too old to do it all himself. It was Friday, though, and Fang had Fridays off, so while everyone else was leaving for school, Fang was finishing dishes and starting laundry. This was what he did on Fridays. He cleaned, and grocery shopped and fixed everything that people had managed to break during the last week. He was just finishing up sweeping the kitchen floor when he heard a knock on the door. He leaned the broom against the fridge, then went to answer it. He turned the knob and pulled open the door. What stood on the other side struck him momentarily speechless.

"Max?"

Hehe, cliffie. How will he react?

Review, please.

Hey, that almost sounded like a normal person wrote it. Cool.

Then again, normal is only a setting on washing machines.