At last, we get an idea as to when exactly this fic is set canon-wise. I realize this chapter might not be as interesting as the others, considering it's Flock POV rather than Maega goings-on, but it had to happen. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Fang, for once, was afraid.

He'd been afraid before, of course; fear for his life, for the lives of the flock, for Max, for the world, the future. Many things scared him.

But this was a terror unlike any he'd felt before.

Max was gone. And not only was she gone; no, he had no idea whatsoever where she was. Skid marks in the parking lot of the fast-food chain they had visited suggested that someone had taken off in a hurry, and he had a feeling that that someone was in possession of their fearless leader. But they'd left no trail, no scrap of evidence that pointed in any direction. The skid marks were in the lot behind the restaurant, and the vehicle could have headed anywhere from there.

He should have known. That boy, that Sam, had looked so shaky, so conspicuous, not to mention his very presence there in Kansas; which, Fang liked to note, was nowhere near Virginia. But one cold look from Max had told him not to follow her and that rat to the hallway where the bathrooms—and the emergency exit—were located.

They'd all flown in every direction to try and find some hint of her. A speeding SUV, a helicopter, anything. Upon meeting back in Colorado, in the new home the CSM had graciously built them, each member reported no findings. The smaller kids were restless. Iggy was tense.

And Fang…

Well, Fang was rather pissed.

"It was five minutes," Gazzy said helplessly. "How could she disappear in five minutes?"

Fang sighed. He'd asked himself the same question dozens of times already.

"This is bad," Nudge piped in. "She didn't even make any noise. That's not like Max. She always makes noise, she always screams and fights and…and tells us to run, or just to let us know there's trouble." Her lower lip quivered, and she bit down on it to steady the tremble. "Always makes noise…"

That was true. Max was never one to go quietly.

"What do we do?" Nudge asked, her voice a quiet squeak.

Iggy crushed the plastic straw in his hand. He'd been stirring his drink without taking a sip, without saying a word. Like Fang, Iggy had faith in Max's ability to take care of herself. He probably worried for her the least out of anyone because she was capable, his bully older sister, the sturdiest caretaker. Now, he was obviously bothered.

Again, Fang sighed.

"We'll start in Virginia."

They all turned towards him. Gazzy and Nudge's eyes lit up at the scrap of a plan he'd conjured. Angel looked less hopeful, her face weighed down with distress, and Iggy simply frowned.

"We'll go back to that school. With any luck, he'll either still be there or they'll have his files," Fang went on. "We can find Sam from there."

"Why would he take Max?" Angel asked.

"I don't know, but we'll—"

The phone rang and startled each one of them. They all stared warily at it, and Fang knew they had the same thought he did: it was either Max, or her captors calling with a dire message or demand. Either way, Fang leapt for it and snatched the phone from its cradle, his heart racing in his chest despite the calm that clung to his face.

"Max?"

"Fang?"

His chest ached. That was Jeb's voice.

"Fang, what's wrong? Is Max not there with you?"

Fang remained silent at the question. If only. If only she were there, safe, and ordering them around as was usual, he would not be so worried, so stressed and afraid. He could feel the stillness of the others behind him. Their tension loomed over him, pressed against him. It was suffocating.

He took a heavy breath. The rise and fall of his own chest steadied him.

"Jeb," he greeted plainly. Everyone else in the room deflated at the name.

"Fang," Jeb said again, and he had that tone Fang knew too well, the one he used when one of them wouldn't listen as children, when he and Max were arguing and poking at each other, when Nudge wouldn't share something with Angel. Fang stiffened at the traces of authority Jeb still thought he had. "Where is she?"

He gritted his teeth.

What were the merits of lying, and what would the truth cost them?

Apparently Jeb's question had riled someone on his side of the line, as Fang heard a slightly familiar voice that raised his hackles.

"What's wrong?" The voice was faint and riddled with immediate concern. "Is she not there?"

Dylan.

If there were even the smallest trace of serpent DNA in his blood, Fang would have hissed. As it were, he flipped through the various consequences of lying or revealing that, no, they did not in fact know where Max was.

They could be stuck on their own, or Jeb could help.

And drag Dylan with him.

"Why are you calling?" he decided to ask. Jeb wouldn't have it.

"Tell me what happened," Jeb coaxed. "We just returned to the States from Africa. Weren't you all headed back to the U.S. too?"

Well, yes. It had seemed as good an idea as any at the time, and Max was so anxious to return to their home country.

"We ran into someone on the way back to Colorado."

Jeb's silence goaded him. He knew that silence too well. It was the façade of patience, when really Jeb was dying to drag every detail from him.

"Someone involved in the Virginia fiasco," Fang said. He took a breath, calmed his nerves at the memory of Sam's nervous face, of Max's last words within ear shot: Stay here. I'll be right back.

Not true, Fang thought. You didn't come back.

Lost in his thoughts, Jeb's voice tried to break through to him. "Fang?"

Why didn't you come back to us?

"Tell me everything."

…Back to me?