What was I thinking? I don't know. It's a weird feeling for me, not knowing what I'm thinking. Lately I've always known. I've known I was a soldier. I've known I was a leader. I've known I was a fighter. That's what I was. What I thought I'd always be. He left, I did what I had to do to get the job done. It was a necessary change. A change that had all but brought about the elimination of Itex. It was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be my new destiny.

He was never supposed to come back.

I never saw it as a possibility. If he was going to come back, if I'd thought for one second that it could happen someday, I would never have left Ella's room that night. I would have curled up and died for every second he was gone. Waiting there for him to come and wake me up again. I would have strived to stay the same Max I'd been then. Stay the same for him. Stay the same so when he came back I would still be here.

He was never supposed to come back.

I don't know what to do now, but life goes on. And so do the dreams. I still have them after all these years. There always the same. Fang is in them of course. He's standing some where out in the open. Maybe a rooftop or an open field. A gun held pointed at his chest. The person holding the gun changes regularly. Maybe it's the face of a guard I killed, a thung I'd beaten or a leader I'd outsmarted. Sometimes it's Anne or Ari or Jeb. Sometimes it's my mother, my sister or one of the flock. And on the worst nights, the kind I've been having lately, it's me behind the trigger. But I'm watching from afar at the same time. Watching my face twist with delight at killing the boy who had caused so much pain in my life. Sometimes who ever was behind the gun would kill me after I watched him fall, the life swiftly fading from him as he told me to run. Sometimes I would run. But usually I'd just stand there and die with him. It was better that way. The nightmare didn't last as long then.

I'm going back to my room. We've expanded the house a lot lately. Many people are very thankful for the work the flock has accomplished. The manor-sized house we now inhabit was our biggest splurge. I decide to take a quiet back way around to my bedroom. Hopefully the rarely-used hall will be deserted.

No such luck. It's been only a day since I visited Fang in mom's office. He probably has free roam of the house now, so when I hear footsteps I freeze. But it's only Nudge. I nod politely in greeting. She studies me carefully before nodding back. She stops and looks like she's about to speak so I quicken my pace. I don't have the energy to make up excuses today.

I reach my room and grab the first book on my self. It's in Russian, but I've studied a lot of things over the last few years. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.

It's not catching my attention like I'd hoped. This isn't distracting enough. I consider briefly throwing the book against the opposite wall, but instead set it back in place on the self in the manner befitting a leader who has it all together.

It's part of my act, you see. It's an act I've been doing for so long perfectly. I play a leader, a warrior. I'm a hero because I make the hard choices, do the difficult things, protect others from having to face the harshest standards of reality. I know it takes it's toll. That's why the act of course. To hide the pain that I'm so numb of. I know it's hard, but eventually it'll fade into reality. That's how it was with getting over Fang. I worked and pushed so hard through life until I stopped thinking about him all the time. It was a taboo topic. I didn't think of him when I flew anymore, I was focused on where I was going. And I was focused now, as headed to the firing range to focus my feeling, my humanity, into something practical.

It was all I knew anymore.

I headed down to the small firing range built into the side of the house. I swiped a blank cart from the rack at the side of the room, dropping the real bullets from my handgun and reloading it. At least I would have to focus to shoot. Or so I thought. I hit the targets almost mechanically, not caring how accurate my aim was. At least I didn't shake so much anymore.

Some part of my knew I was running away. Running away from Fang, from everything we were and had been. I just needed…some time to think. To think about what, I don't know, because everything seemed to lead back to him.

I can't say I'm utterly depressed or distraught, devastatingly unhappy or on the verge of an absolute breakdown. I'm just confused. I know this is the right thing to do and I had managed to reclaim some normality until a few hours ago. I haven't lost myself by picking up a weapon and taking more control of my life.

But…

"Max?"

I whirled round, aiming wildly, finger curled round the trigger.

Fang actually took a step back in shock, maybe hurt.

But…

"What are you doing?"

I wish I knew the answer to that myself, Fang.