Author's Note: I'm such a lazy excuse for an author. I've been to focused on my PJO fanfiction and my original story, I guess. This story is almost over, three chapters and an epilogue. Then I think I'll give Niggy another go. I don't know :P . Max will get more time in the next chapters.

After MAX at Dr. M's and FANG never happened. I wish it hadn't.

Summary: A year later, Nudge comes back and finds out she's not the only one who's different. This visit should be short, sweet, uneventful, it shouldn't change how anyone feels, right? But maybe it does.

Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. I do not own Magnus Bane, if any of you know who he is. I wrote the song, but it's a parody of 'Break Your Little Heart' by All Time Low. Listen to the instrumental?

Ages: Iggy: 18 Nudge: 15

Nudge POV:

I stood outside the small but comfortable, all too familiar house on the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona. It'd been over a year since I'd 'run away' to Hollywood to pursue a modeling career. At fourteen, it was the hardest and probably the most immature thing I'd ever done. I'd meant to break it off lightly. But, I had a fight just before and I took off. I didn't say goodbye and that left an extreme amount of guilt.

They don't even know you're here. They must not have heard the taxi so you can just turn back, hop on the next plane to Hollywood and forget this. Sent them a letter, or better yet an e-mail. Post an apology on Fang's blog. He'd love that. I can't believe he still writes that. Gee, I wonder how he's doing. Him and Max should be finishing high school soon. They're lucky they got to go to school- on set tutors are so not the same thing. I wonder if they know what I did. There's no doubt they'd have seen my Forever 21 ads. If Ella didn't cram it down their throats Angel surely would have. Gosh, they're going to think I'm such a traitor, a deserter. I should really just leave. I mean, do I really need to see Max, Fang, the Gasman and Angel?

But I'll get to see Iggy.

I was snapped out of that pleasant thought but the sound of a dog yipping. A brown Schnauzer appeared from the unlocked back gate and started nipping at my heels. I nearly dropped my Gucci sunglasses.

"Magnolia, knock it off!" I cried. The grouchy dog didn't listen. Instead she began chasing me around the driveway. Thank goodness I'd perfected the sacred art of running in stilettos. From inside the house, with my raptor-like ears, I heard, "What's that cranky old dog up to now? Okay, I'll go check."

Crap! I picked up Magnolia and was about to throw her back over the fence when the front door opened.

Fang stared at me, and I stared back. The first thing that struck me was how much older he looked. He was only eighteen, which was, like, ancient and we'd always appeared older than we were so he looked about twenty one. Like he could buy cigars and alcohol and stuff. Not that he would, unless he'd changed. The second thing that amazed me was how good he looked. At least, how good your almost-brother could look. He finally cut his hair so that it was no longer long enough for that accursed ponytail. But it made me sad, remembering when Max and I would braid it when he was asleep.

Something flashed in his dark eyes and I dropped the dog, momentarily scared. He leaned on the door frame and broke into a crooked, trademark-Fang grin.

"I see you managed to stay away longer this time, huh?" he said, referring to many years ago in Hawaii.

"I guess. LA is a lot cooler than school."

His grin turned into an almost frown, more sad than upset, "You should be so grounded. Why'd you come back?"

"I don't know. I got lonely. Fame, or a little bit of fame isn't all its cracked up to be. And it just seemed like such a long time. But I'd understand if you all hate me. I sort of hate me. Maybe I should just leave."

"That'd be a good idea."

I took a shaky step backward. I guess I'd expected him to protest, tell me to come back.

Suck it up Nudge. At least get in the taxi before you start sobbing.

Then I heard Fang call over his shoulder, "Angel! Gasman! I think there's someone you should see!"

I looked at him, confused. He was smiling that crooked smile again. Two blonde heads peeked through the door at the same time. The first one gasped, the second flew out the door. Angel's hug knocked the breath out of me but I didn't care.

"OMG, Nudge! It's been so long. Look at how you've grown!" she exclaimed, like she was the older one. I didn't say anything, for the first time. I hugged my little sister and looked at the Gasman,

"Well?"

He strode across the driveway and wrapped his arms around me and Angel. I felt him shaking slightly but I pretended not to notice. I met Fang's eyes over the tops of their heads- when had they gotten so tall? Angel and the Gasman broke away and Fang put an arm around me, leading me inside.

I happily inhaled everything about the home-ly home-ness of home. They say that's where the heart is and as soon as I stepped in, something lifted off of mine. I took in the faint, permanent scent of chocolate chip cookies; the shoes scattered around the stairs; the always broken bathroom down the hall; the pictures of the whole Martinez/mutant/even-the-dogs family, mine still in the middle. I did a double take at that and Fang chuckled,

"You're not that easy to forget."

I sat in the living, curled up in the velvet armchair that had once been red but was now burgundy with burns. The chair still smelled like cherry blossom shampoo which made me wonder out loud,

"Where's Max?"

"Did I hear my name?"

Standing on the staircase was the incredible, indescribable Maximum Ride. There was another stare down and once again I was scared as Max lunged and tackled me...

into a hug.

"Nudge, you're so freakin' dead! First you leave and don't say goodbye then you stay gone for almost two years and then you come back and you don't even say hello and, and, and, oh who cares you're safe!"

"Of course I am Max. I wouldn't die before I returned this," I brought a tube of cherry lip gloss out of my pocket, "I accidentally took it when I- left. But it helped me land my first cover."

For some reason, the sight of that made Max and Angel and me and even the Gasman cry a little. Max hugged me again,

"We heard everything that happened from Angel. And we grudgingly heard about the fight from Iggy..."

She lost me there. Iggy. "Where is he?" I interrupted.

"He went out with Ella," Max said, then she saw my expression. "Not like that," she quickly lamented.

"But Max," Angel interrupted. Max shot her a look and she quieted.

"That's fine," I said with a tight smile, "I'm sure they're adorable together." Just like me and him. Sort of.

I assume Angel read deeper into my thoughts because she said, "We have a lot to talk about."

"Nuh uh. Not till Iggy and Ella get here."

As she said that the front door opened and the last bounds on my heart were lifted.

"That's not who I think it is, is it?" the redhead, blue eyed, amazing tall, amazing skinny, amazing pale, winged bane of my existence said in a hushed voice. And it was me who embraced him. I stood there for a moment, breathing in Coca-Cola and smoke. I freaked out because Iggy didn't hug me back. I jerked away, embarrassed, but Iggy pulled me back against him.

"Nudge, Nudge, Nudge, Nudge," he repeated into my mane of hair.

"Yeah," I squeaked back.

He didn't answer, only hugged me tighter, like I would leave again.

"Gosh, that day. I'm so sorry. It was all my fault you left. I said so many things-"

"Don't you dare blame yourself. It was all my fault. I would have left anyway. Please, let's forget about it."

"Forget it," Iggy repeated, "I can do that." He relaxed and let me go a little. I unwillingly loosened my death grip as well. He put a hand on my cheek and laughed quietly at the tears streaking my cheeks,

"You've gotten kind of beautiful."

I willed myself not to blush while he was still touching me. Ella held out her arms,

"What am I, chopped liver?"

I giggled, "You are way too awesome and well dressed for that, Ella." I gave her a hug as well. We all seated ourselves around the living room.

"Do my mom know you're here?"

I shook my head, telling them I hadn't even planned on coming. It just sort of happened. Angel got me up to date on everyone's exploits. Max, Fang, and Iggy would be graduating soon, the Gasman had set the city pool on fire, she was taking ballet. Dr. M was looking into retirement but Ella had a job at the community center.

"We wanted to come after you but Fang insisted this was you finding you're own way," Max said, elbowing her boyfriend.

"That reminds me, Iggy and Ella have been going out," Angel said, to no one in particular.

The news, well news to me, got mixed responses. Max looked frustrated, Fang and Gazzy looked bored, Iggy looked uncomfortable, and Ella looked jovial. I'm pretty sure I was barely contained shock. But I recovered,

"That's awesome. Congrats. Which brings me to my last surprise. He should be here soon."

"Surprise?"

"Here?"

"He?"

The doorbell rang, saving me from another twenty questions. I bound up to get it.

I opened the door and there stood five feet ten inches of perfectly tan, blonde, green eyed, Californian hunky-ness.

I took his hand and led him to the awaiting crowd,

"Everyone, this is Grant. My boyfriend."

As you could imagine that went over like a ton of bricks. Fang looked very suspicious, Iggy looked stunned, Max looked mad, Angel looked amazed, Ella still looked jovial and the Gasman still looked bored.

"Nu-I mean Tiffany Krystal. Could I talk to you for a minute. In the kitchen," Where there are lots of pointy knives I can use to stab some sense into you, I practically heard as an after thought. I follow Max at a good distance. She leaned on the stove and I leaned on the sink, a quick moment of nostalgia.

"Okay," Max said in a bitter tone, "what's your name, and what are ours?"

"Uh, he calls me Nudge but you guys are Maxine, Nick, Adam, Zephyr, and Ariel."

"Okay. Easy enough to remember. Wait! Adam?"

"Long story," One that ends in a kiss, "don't worry Max he doesn't know about the- appendages."

"Thank goodness. Nudge, what were you thinking! Wait, you weren't."

"That sounds awfully familiar."

"Don't change the subject!" Max snapped, "What do we know about this Grant?"

I told her everything about him: He was from an old family in Malibu, I met him at a industry party, my agent tried really hard to get us together.

"I didn't like him at first," I admitted, "but he's really sweet."

"I'm sure," Max rolled her eyes, "Why did you bring him here? What if we'd been flying? You know that no one outside of the town knows about us. We'd like to keep it that way."

"Max please don't be mad. You'll learn to love him."

There was a pause, "Do you? Love him, I mean."

"What? I don't know. I just. He's fun alright?"

"Fine."

We went back to the living room. Angel told me Fang had taken Grant for 'a talk'. I crossed my fingers, hoping this wouldn't get violent. Grant came back, looking a bit shaken up but otherwise fine. Fang, on the other hand, looked smug.

"So, Grant," Max said, "Nudge tells me you're an aspiring director."

"Yep. I've made two independent films already."

"And your GPA?"

"Four-point-oh."

"Play any sports?"

"Tae kwon do, kickboxing, surfing. Some soccer on the side."

"Favorite author?"

"Charles Dickinson."

"Favorite musician?"

"Magnus Bane."

"Ever been to Death Valley?"

"No?"

"Have any felons?"

"No."

"Got wings?"

"Okay!" I said, clapping loudly, "I'm really tired and I'm sure Grant is too! So how about we finish this after lunch. Max go cook something."

"Trying to kill him already?" Angel asked, "he must be really rich."

In return for that, I made her carry my bag upstairs.

I started putting my stuff way in the old room I shared with Angel. Everything was the way I'd left it! Angel came in and sat on her bed.

"So what's the story?"

"What story?"

"Behind Grant. He doesn't seem your type."

I snorted, "How do you know what my type is?"

"I don't. I just know its not him. So care to tell me why you're dating him. And why you brought him here?"

"You're really bossy and evil for a ten year old, you know that?" But I decided to tell her the story anyway.

Angel nodded thoughtfully, "I see. So you don't like Grant that much. Well, maybe, you do but its in a strictly friend way. You dated him because you were lonely and you had a place in you're heart that was empty. And you needed it to be filled right away. You feel bad for leading him on but you don't want to let him go. The truth is you love someone else. Someone you think you haven't loved in a long time but you always have, even when you were young. And you want to tell him, to say that Grant is nothing but you're too sacred too because you don't want to be rejected. That's you're biggest fear: rejection, being alone, voids, not having. That's why you haven't told, hooked up with Grant so quickly, why you talk so much, and why you wouldn't tell him. That's why you try-and fail-to convince yourself that what you have is good enough."

"What?" I asked, my eyes widening at angelic little Angel sitting on the edge of my bed, ankles crossed, in a frilly pink dress, eyes wide and innocent, completely oblivious to my utter horror.

"Nevermind." I watched Angel retreat. Trying to clear my head, I opened my window, prepared to leap out for the second time. But I saw Brant and Iggy in the backyard talking. Huh, guess it's a protective big brother thing.

Iggy's not your brother, sang a voice in the back of my head. Shut up, I told it. I listened in on their conversation. Iggy looked bored, tapping his fingers against the table; Grant looked uncomfortable, probably from his encounter with Fang.

"So," Grant said, "what do you like?"

"Blowing things up. Cooking. Stealing. Bacon."

"Ha, you're funny. What? You're serious? Oh. Okay then."

Grant kept asking pointless questions, Iggy kept giving half-hearted answers. This was not going as well as I'd hoped.

Iggy finally cut in, his tone as sharp and cold as icicles, "Why are you dating my sister?"

Grant turned just as flushed as I did, "What?"

"Dating. My. Sister. Why?"

"Well she's hot for one," I snorted, both annoyed and flattered, "But I have to admit, she's dangerous to be around. We were stalked by these paparazzi and I swear they transformed."

"That'll happen around her," Then Iggy looked pained, like he was struggling to say something: "Do you love her?"

"That's a bit extreme! I like her. She's a great kisser."

I thought I heard the faintest, "I know."

"Nudge?" I whirled around. The Gasman stood in the doorway. He looked nervous.

"Yeah?" I said, patting the seat next to me on the ledge. He sat down. The Gasman looked at me with wide blue eyes, the color of the Malibu ocean, and with his blonde hair like downy feathers and curious expression, he seemed a lot younger than twelve,

"Why'd you leave?"

The question startled me. Nobody had asked my intentions yet, just assumed they knew.

"I left so I could try modeling."

The Gasman shook his head, "That's not the only reason."

"Alright then what was it!"

"I'm no mind reader," he said wistfully, "but I'm okay at reading faces. Everyone seems to forget I'm not still an eight year old who farts all the time. You left because you needed a distraction. You knew you couldn't be around him much longer without, saying something."

"Who is this him you all keep mentioning?"

"You know. Don't deny it. You think you know how you feel about him but you don't. I do."

"Really? Then now do I feel?"

The Gasman grinned and stood up, "I can't tell you everything, can I?" I smiled a little as he left my alone as well. Turning back to the window, it looked like Iggy and Grant had come inside. My inference was proved when Grant came in and sat on my bed.

"Your family's kind of scary."

"I know."

"They seem a lot like felons. How come know of them have never been to jail?"

"What do you mean 'them'? I'm one of 'them'."

"Not anymore. I mean, there was a reason you ran away, right?"

"Yes. No. Ugh, I've already been over this, Grant," I said with an edge of finality. He let the subject drop. We sat in an awkward silence. It was usually like this: if we weren't talking about work, and I wasn't talking about the Flock, and Grant wasn't talking about himself, we hardly had anything to say. That was new for me. Luckily, Fang came and saved us from further silence. Wasn't that backwards.

"I hate to interrupt this chat-fest, but Ella has requested Nudge's presence. And Max's has requested yours," he added to Grant. As Grant passed him, he whispered, "Now I'd be scared."

I cast him an exasperated look as I headed to Ella and Max's shared room.

"Makeover!" she shrieked as I entered, casting my eyes upon rows of dresses, skirts, jewelry and makeup. It was like an all-you-can-eat-bacon buffet except better! I let Ella and Angel sit me in a vanity chair. They painted my nails applied make-up, suggesting insane outfits. Ella began trying to untangle my crazy hair, the kind that broke brushes.

"I think I've got it-shoot!" Ella held up the handle of a comb, "You owe me hair products."

I giggled, "Sure thing. I'll make Grant buy them."

"Ah, yes, Grant. So are you guys absolutely in lurrrve?"

I expertly dodged this awkward question by asking, "Are you and Iggy?" Okay, maybe that wasn't so expert. Ella made a face. She tugged hard on the replacement brush.

"Ow!"

"Sorry," she said, with no regret, "We're doing fine. But you know Iggy. A. Real. Ladies. Man." she said, emphasizing each word with a pull of the brush.

"Um, Ella. I like my hair where it is. On my head."

"Right sorry."

"So what's wrong? Anything I can do to help"-Ouch!"

"We'll be just fine. I mean we're not official or anything. He's been real quiet lately, thinking and stuff by himself. He hasn't blown something up in ages. Good for Mom's garden bad for him. But he was worse right after you're, er, departure. I like to think I brought him out of the depression." That you put him in. It was unspoken but implied. Angel saved the day by bringing over a plaid leggings and a gray sweater dress of the New York City skyline, with a pair of ankle boots and a silver ruby necklace. As we 'oohed' and 'ahhed' over the fabulous outfit, Max came and shook her head,

"We're- minus Angel- going to a club, not Fifth Avenue."

"Minus me?"

"A club?"

"You know what Fifth Avenue is?"

"I learn fast. Angel you're only ten and this place is over fifteen. And, yes, we're going to a club."

"But why!" I asked, not upset but totally stoked.

"You'll see. I'm going to tell the guys to get ready. And for goodness sake don't buy anything else. My Max Ride card can max out!"

"No it can't!" piped Angel. When Max returned we dolled her and Ella up in their favorite colors, too. We gathered outside. I was psyched and prepared to fly, until I remembered Grant and Ella were coming along. We'd have to drive. Strangely, Iggy wasn't there.

"He had to... go ahead." Fang said.

The club was small and cool, located in downtown Phoenix. It was low brick building, splash painted silver and black. It smelled like black coffee and strong perfume and the air was dry, sandy, instead of hot and salty. Already the club was packed. There clearly wasn't dancing tonight, or a least not of the Lady Gaga music video variety, but a stage was set and the lights were low. It was set for a concert. We got split up, Ella, Grant, and Max drifting toward the 'bar' and Fang and I being jostled toward the exit. We agreed to meet in front of the stage. It took quite a bit of pushing and weaseling to get to the stage but we got there soon enough.

"So," Fang said, the lights making his eyes seem darker and wise.

"So what?"

"As random as this may seem, I'm going to give you some advice."

"About what? How to have totally awesome hair like yours? Cause I could use that."

"Buy the book."

"The advice?"

"Ah, yes. Love."

"Love?" I echoed, dumbfounded.

"Yes, love, don't look so surprised that I know what it is.

It's something real, and its something real hard to understand. It's a fact, a skill, you have to learn it. It's-it's like a lesson in real life. When you think you've found it, you probably haven't. Thinking and love don't go together. It's when you wake up one night, you're drinking coffee, or you hear a song, you look up at the stars and then you know. That's love."

Any other day, any other place, any other time, and any other feelings inside and I would have made a childish remark. But not today, not here, not now, not with how I thought-knew- I was feeling.

"I'm your big brother, I can tell how you feel about him."

"Who's him?" I asked, as the lights dimmed, the stage lights the only illumination and the band coming out onstage. I looked up and saw a pair of black and white Vans, like Iggy always wore. And I saw a pair of beat up jeans, like Iggy's and white shirt, something like Iggy's, and a halo of hair the color of fire which he loved so much.

Iggy spoke into the mic, completely confident and completely at home, "Goodnight, Phoenix! We are Lost in Cassettes, and we found our way to all you beautiful ladies and rocking gentlemen. We were prepared to play our last set, but we- meaning me, had a change of heart and wrote this backstage. Sure the boys wanted to kill me for changing the chords but I think it'll be worth it. So without further whatever, we give you our latest song, dedicated to every heart breaker out here. Especially those who don't know it."

The guitarist started playing: an energetic melody full of high riffs. Not much drum, but a good bass line. And Iggy began to sing.

"You're here, I can feel your smile
tryin' lie, tryin' hide, now I'm tired,
More than a crush, I think it's you
(I think it's, I think it's you)

This is a song, not a vow,
Writing this damn thing it how,
I'll get it off my chest, that's for the best

Cause if he breaks your heart,
I'll rebuild it piece by piece,
That'd be easy,
These words can't seem to work for me,
Just take my heart and let me be,
(take my heart and let me be)

What a chick, it's a risk,
just liking her,
suicide's on my mind,
if I'm loving her

More than a crush, I think it's you
(I think it's, I think's it you)

This is a song, not a vow,
Writing this damn thing it how,
I'll get it off my chest, that's for the best

Cause if he breaks your heart,
I'll rebuild it piece by piece,
That'd be easy,
These words can't seem to work for me,
Cause if he broke your heart,
I'll give him hell,
I'm always here,
whether or not you can tell,
These words can't seem to work for me,
Just take my heart and let me

It's no accident I fell so hard,
the world dealt me these cards
listen up
I'm wasting my time
Because it's true

Cause if he breaks your heart
I'll rebuild it piece by piece
That'd be easy,
These words can't seem to work for me
Cause if he broke your heart
I'll give him hell,
I'm always here,
whether or not you can tell,
These words can't seem to work for me
Just take my heart and let me be"

The crowd went wild. I would have jumped and screamed, too, like Max and Ella by my side but I was too stunned by how great the song was. They went through the rest of their songs, each as great as the last. When the show ended and Lost in Cassettes groupies had gone, we all met the bar to congratulate Iggy.

"So who'd you like the newer one," he asked.

"Gee," Grant said sarcastically, "that sounds an awful lot like a girl on rebound."

I frowned uncharacteristically at him, "I don't think so. It way too sweet and it's written by Ig- I mean, Jeff, I mean Adam, I mean James, who doesn't do that. Right, Ig? It sounds like it's about a girl he cares an awful lot about and he'll take care of her. Wait for her," I turned to Iggy, "Who's it for?"

Ella grinned and attached herself to his arm when he smirked and said, "I wrote it for my special girl."

So why was he looking at me?

Ugh. I apologize for the cliche of a band but I find randomly writing a song is worse. The band name was a play on 'Lost in Stereo' also by All Time Low. Hope you appreciated the wise Fang and the long chapter.