dudes.

i've been on fanfiction for over four years now.

when did that happen.

disclaimer: don't own maximum ride.

11. of all the things to steal. . .

The next day went as the previous one had: it had its ups, it had its downs, but the overall final grade was a nice, resounding "suckish."

The morning was crappy, because the night had been crappy, because the day before had been crappy. So I wasn't in the best mood when the good doctor returned, having run her blood tests and whatever the hell else she'd done with her findings.

I had the misfortune of answering the door, and she practically steamrolled over me without so much as a non-hostile greeting. It's like I wasn't even there. And, while she completely ignored me, she was nothing but responsive to Con. Answering his questions, more or less, and even exchanging a bit of unrelated chit-chat.

It irritated me more than I liked to admit.

We made it to the kitchen, where Marein took her sweet time about getting settled in, which only annoyed me more. But, finally, she was sitting at the head of the dining table, her purse at her feet, some official-looking folders spread out in front of her, a Starbucks to-go cup steaming gently at her left hand.

Huh. Left hand. Like Dylan, not Sy.

Max, Fang, Con, Dylan, the twins and I were spread out around the rest of the table - the others had been banished to the basement, with the older ones there to keep the younger ones back. (We would've banished the twins, too, but they'd threatened us with secrets.) But it probably didn't matter who was here and who wasn't, though. Twenty bucks said half of them were right on the other side of the basement door, listening in on the conversation.

Marein took a delicate sip of her most likely pretentious and European drink. My eye twitched.

"Well?" I asked impatiently, as soon as she set the cup down.

Almost as if she was deliberately trying to annoy me, Sy's witch of a mother shuffled through her folders, consulting her various printouts of the results. But, after I'd quelled my urge to flip the table, she finally said, "The preliminary results were inconclusive."

We all stared at her.

". . .What." It wasn't a question; my voice was flat.

"I'd go into a lengthy, logical explanation, but you wouldn't understand it," Marein replied, rolling her eyes. My own eye twitched again, and someone kicked me lightly beneath the table, a silent signal to cool out. "All I can tell you is that I don't see anything physically different between Dylan and the others."

I stared at her more. She just shook her head, sending ripples through her flawlessly bleached hair, as if even she didn't understand her findings, and went over her papers again.

"There's just nothing in my results that suggests Dylan isn't exactly the same as he was before this happened," she said. She picked up three sheets and flipped them around, pushing them down the table for us to see. I caught a quick glimpse of the names - Subjects 2, 4, and 6 - and lots of lines of black numbers before Max snatched up the papers for consulting. I wondered briefly if she'd understand what she was reading, but judging by the look that crossed her face I guessed not. Con, who was apparently more well-versed in medical jargon, picked the papers from her hands and glanced over them. Dylan leaned over slightly to read over his shoulder.

"His numbers are consistent with the girls," Marein went on, "which is to be expected, but they're also consistent with the twins, and the rest who haven't turned, which surprised me."

"Is there a difference between the others and Kyla and Wave?" Con asked, looking up.

Marein shook her head and slid him another sheet (Subject 5, I saw), which he picked up and studied. "No. It's consistent across the board. I guess I assumed as much, subconsciously, because every hybrid here has the same physical makeup. They all have the equal balance of DNA that we realized worked best for longevity. And from what I can remember of the studies we did on the others, those with more fish DNA approached this change at a faster and more dangerous rate."

"Dangerous?" Max echoed. "How do you mean?"

"They became overwhelmed by whatever it is that brings out the red and ultimately destroyed themselves," Marein said simply. "It was unfortunate, especially considering that there was never anything to suggest that the same wouldn't happen to the ones with less fish DNA."

"Explain what happened with the crazy ones," Con said, eyes still flickering between the sheets in his hands. Dylan pointed at something on one sheet, but Con waved him off.

Man I wish I knew how to read blood tests.

"They were weak," said Marein. "From what we gathered whenever one of them started switching, the red side brought out the opposing forces in personality." At this I perked up, wondering if the scientists had picked up on my own theory. "If they were nice, they became mean, if they were gentle, they became violent, and so on. As every experiment reacted differently, we never established an exact pattern for the switches, but eventually they all remained red."

Well, as satisfying as it was to have other proof from my own findings yesterday, the whole "remained red" part bummed me out. But I cleared my throat and said, "Yeah, and from what the twins said, whenever that happened it was like the two sides combined and sort-of balanced out. Did you notice that?"

Though she didn't look happy about my contributing to the conversation (what did she even have against me?), Marein answered. "Yes, that's right. Though I wouldn't say balanced so much as cooperated. One side was always more dominant - usually the red."

Crap. "Right. . .so, they also thought that this is happening to Sy because he's fought off the red side so much that it's become its own personality," I said.

"All right." She waited, but nobody else said anything and she frowned. "Well, what do you want from me? I'm not a psychologist, I can't confirm or deny the theory. I don't even have the equipment necessary to do a full brain examination."

"What d'you mean?" Con asked sharply.

"This house doesn't have a PET scanner, or an EEG machine, or an fMRI or MRI," Marein said exasperatedly. "And if you really want me to do a thorough job, I'll need all of them so I can take a look at their heads and see if that's where the problem is."

Well, okay.

Let's go over the events of the past few days, shall we?

1. Dylan is here.

2. We don't know why.

3. Marein came over.

4. She conducted tests.

5. Those tests were inconclusive.

6. She can run more tests.

7. But she doesn't have the equipment to do so.

"That. . ." I sighed and shook my head, lifting my arm to the table and dropping my head in my hand. "Just great."

"No big deal, then," Con said, sounding unruffled. "Just get the machines and do the tests."

"It's not so easy as that," Marein said, eyes narrowing. "Not many hospitals have portable MRIs, and even less would lend them out to independent parties."

Con set down the result sheets and meticulously set them in a neat, perfectly straight pile. "Then I suggest we don't go about it in a, oh, let's say, legal way," he said lightly.

Marein frowned, but there was a grudging flicker of respect in her eyes. "So how do you suggest we proceed?"

Even though we were a few branches away from each other, I could just feel Con's tension rolling off him in waves.

"This is insane," he whispered.

"Be quiet." I was still a little snippish, what with the pile-up of crappy happenings, but my mood was getting better. The inherent thief in me liked what we were doing, and so I was content to keep it up.

"No," Con refused. I glanced up at him and he glared back down at me. "Look, I know I suggested it, but I only intended to carry it out after careful planning. This, what we're doing right now?" He twirled his finger around in a little gesture to our location. "This is stupid as fuck."

I just smirked at him and winked. "Aw, come on. Don't you trust me?"

"Yes, but when you do things like this I begin to wonder why."

Aqua snickered beside me while Fang, a few branches to my lower left, ignored us, eyes fixed on the trucks parked in the back lot of the hospital.

Yeah, hospital. Con had suggested we just liberate some equipment from one nearby, and Marein had reluctantly agreed. When given the choice, she'd gone with taking an MRI first, since it'd be easiest to get. Portable ones were just fixed in the trucks, like miniature exam rooms. And, since our activities would be easily noticed with a big honking truck in the driveway, we'd all agreed to take the truck, quickly run the tests, then put it back and (if possible) go inside the hospital and get the other machines for later, more private use.

So here we were, at the back of Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital, spying on their MRI truck and waiting for the guard to leave it unattended.

It was just me, Aqua, Fang, and Con on this mission, and while I'd've liked to have a few of the others, I knew the blackbirds and super-strong fish girl would do just fine. Hell, even just Aqua would've done fine, but Max had insisted on backup. She'd originally wanted to come herself, but Con had overridden her and taken her place, which I was a tad thankful for. Because while I'll admit that Max is good, she's too much of a leader, and she'd've questioned me at every turn. And while Con would also question me at every turn, there was a higher chance of him following me with less animosity.

"They wouldn't just keep them in the trucks, would they?" Fang asked quietly, referring to the computer cart installed with the MRI-reading software. Of course, it would've been easier to just take the truck and download a bootleg version online, but she'd been adamant about getting a proper reading of Dylan's head (go figure).

"Doubt it," Aqua said. "Then just anybody could steal it and be good to go."

"Off to conduct painless head scans to their heart's content," I commented. Aqua laughed, but neither of the guys did. I sighed. "I don't get why anybody would want to steal an MRI. It'd just be easier to actually go to the hospital and have them do it, right?"

"We're stealing an MRI," Fang pointed out.

I paused. ". . .Point taken." I scanned the lot again and perked up. "Hey, look, the guard's leaving."

"He was bound to at some point." Con took a tired breath. "The one thing I like about hospitals is that they're usually lax on good security. People come and go all the time, so as long as you look innocent enough, they'll leave you alone."

"You've robbed a hospital before?" Fang said.

"Maybe."

I clicked my fingers to get their attention and pointed to the lot. "Look. Something's happening."

Yes, something was indeed happening. The guard had left the truck, all right, but he'd only gone to the back door to hold it open. We waited, and a few moments later, a man decked out in greenish scrubs came backing out of the building, dragging a giant AV cart complete with computer, wires, and everything. A second nurse was following him, bearing another cart laden with some containers. I squinted, hoping to see through the clear-ish plastic, but it was too murky.

It didn't matter, though. Because, wonder of wonders. . .

Fang's eyes narrowed. "What the. . ."

I smiled as I watched the guard and the man-nurse open up the truck, prop up a ramp, and wheel the computer inside. Then the other guy wheeled his cart up, too.

"Oh look, how nice," I said. "They're loading it into the truck for us."

Fang muttered something under his breath, and Con was silent. I looked up, grinning, but he was just staring in stunned disbelief. At last he blinked and looked down at me.

Scowl on his face and voice full of contempt, he told me, "I hate you. Just. . .so, so much." He shook his head in disgust. I laughed.

"I don't like this," Fang said. "This is way too lucky."

"Oh, that's just 'cuz I'm here," I said, flipping my hand. He looked at me skeptically and I smiled. "How else d'you think I survived this long? On my smarts?" Aqua snickered and I winked at her.

"It's true," Con said. "She doesn't have smarts. Just idiotic, unquestioning, dumb stupid luck."

I chuckled again as his intended insult trailed off into bitter realization. "Exactly," I said satisfactorily. Then I stood up on my tree branch and loosened my wings. "So what say we get down there before anybody drives off with my luck, hm?"

We took off from our lookout tree one by one, Con then Fang then me, with Aqua on my back. We all dropped low before whipping out our wings and coasting down the hill. We were more concerned with actually getting the truck than being seen, so we went fast, skimming only a few feet above the ground. Once we got down to the lot, Fang and Aqua took the left, and Con and I took the right. Aqua, being freakishly strong, could push the truck to get us rolling, and once we got to the road I could do an instant jump-start. Con was in charge of driving, and Fang, with his camouflage ability, would be the lookout. And he'd try jamming the hospital's back door, if he could. To give us extra time, ya know?

Con clambered up the side of the truck and slipped in through the open window, not taking the chance of the door's slam being heard. I waited for his signal, which came quickly. No keys. He popped the hood and I climbed up on the front tire so I could reach, sticking my hand to the battery, a finger on each knob where you'd clamp the cables to jump it. Then I waited.

Fang suddenly appeared in the cab, and I saw him talk to Con momentarily. Con waved a hand out the window, and then the truck jerked.

I clung to the open hood, a little surprised that Aqua was actually fulfilling her promise. She'd never gotten to compete in the strength test back in London, so I'd never seen her in action, but frick. Granted, the truck was in neutral, but still. It was a semi-truck. Loaded with a frickin' heavy MRI machine and who knew what else.

Con wheeled the truck around, steering it out of the lot and down a back road that would, as we'd seen earlier from the air, lead to the freeway. I waited, hand on the battery, until we were good and rolling down the hill before I closed my eyes. An electric tingle raced along the scars on my arms, and I prayed that I'd charged enough static to get it to work.

There was a sputter and a grumble, but then the engine caught. Yes! Upon hearing the engine, Aqua quit pushing and ran around to the truck's cab, half-hanging out of it and holding the door open for me. With some effort I shut the hood and jumped away from the truck, whipping out my wings to catch the wind. I drifted back and circled around to the passenger side, awkwardly diving past Aqua into the cab. I crashed into Fang, who slammed into Con, whose hand jerked on the wheel and nearly made us go off-road.

Aqua was laughing as she pulled the door shut and I disentangled myself from Fang.

"Smooth," she said. I smacked the bill of her hat and finally righted myself.

"If anything, compliment Con," I said. "Fang barely nudged him and he nearly made us crash."

Con scowled at the road. "Let's see you try keeping a truck straight with an elbow in your spleen."

"Your spleen's on the other side," I told him. "If anything, he hit your liver."

"My liver, then. Shut up."*

Aqua laughed and I sighed in content, sitting back in my seat. Life was getting better by the second. Stealin' cars, annoying Con, making people laugh. It was almost like old times. Except in old times, we'd never stolen anything as big or expensive as this.

". . .Huh."

"What?" Fang said, looking at me. I shook my head.

"Nothing. But you know, of all the things we've all stolen, collectively, I think this is the weirdest," I said.

He shrugged, and Aqua, after brief consideration, nodded. "Yeah, probably."

"Nah," Con said. I glanced at him and he smirked. "I've stolen a ocelot before. Cage and baby cub included."

God damn it. "Way to ruin my day, dude."

"It's what I'm here for," he replied good-naturedly. "Wanna hear how I did it?"

And as much as I was dying to know so that I could one-up him at some later point in time, I declined. Best not let him ruin my mood too badly; Marein would take care of that just fine.

As the last of us hopped down out of the truck, Marein sniffed disapprovingly. "It took you long enough," she complained.

"Hey, at least we got it, right?" I said defensively. My good mood was quickly evaporating now that I was back in the lady's presence. "Now you can run your tests."

"Did you get the other equipment?" she asked, raising one thin eyebrow.

"Yeah," Con said. "And there's some other stuff in there too, that we saw them put in. Didn't look at it yet, though, so we don't know what it is."

"All right." Marein flipped her hair over her shoulder and went around to the truck's back door. "I'll go in and start setting up. Get them ready."

I liked how she referred to the fish kids as "them." Not the kids, or the children, or the subjects, or the experiments. Just "them." As if she expected us to just know who she was talking about.

I mean, we did, of course, but that was beside the point.

While the others disappeared inside, I stayed on the driveway, stretching and spying on the rest of the street. A quick glance in each window showed no watchers, no suspicious neighbors. Probably 'cuz it was one o' clock on a weekday - everyone was off at school or work. Lucky us, huh?

"Did it go okay?"

I jumped and whipped around, finding Dylan standing behind me. He gave me a weird look.

"What, did I scare you?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah," I said truthfully. "When you sneak up on me like a creeper like that, it's freaky."

The side of his mouth dropped in a frown. "Well, sorry. But did you get the machine okay? No problems?"

I blinked at him. "Noooo," I replied sarcastically, drawing out the word long enough to make him glare. "This giant truck behind me is actually used for transporting ice cream and kittens. Not very efficient, if you ask me, 'cuz the cat hair gets everywhere and makes the ice cream almost uneatable. But hey, who am I to judge Ice Cream And Kittens R Us?"

"I was only asking because I. . ." he began, then checked himself. He sighed irritably. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do, so I want it over and done with. If you screwed up and have the cops after us now, then-"

"I didn't screw up," I snapped. "They probably don't even know who took it."

"Fine. Is she in there?" he asked, pointing to the truck. I nodded and he skirted around me to go to the truck. I watched him stalk to the vehicle and clamber inside, frowning as he did so.

But. . . I felt my own expression copy Dylan's, frowning in confused thought. What was he going to say first? "Because I. . ." Because he what? Was worried about me?

Oh, freak. I really hoped he wasn't coming to be used to me. And God forbid he actually start to like me. We couldn't be friends! Just. . .just no! Not possible, not allowed. Could not happen. I wouldn't let it. Because if I started getting attached to Dylan, in any way, then that'd just cause me unnecessary confusion.

Furious at the thought, I turned around and stalked inside, retreating to my bedroom and slamming the door.

*I TOTALLY FORGOT I USED THOSE LINES. SUCCESS. and that exchange is from waaayyy back in the super-first drafts of the story, mind you, back before i even had an account on this site. ah, the history. it's for opportunities like this that i always save every funny line i come up with. never know when you'll need it.

i also wonder why Con would ever have to steal an ocelot. a story for another time, maybe.

anyway, i'd like to take the time now to thank everybody who's been re-reading and re-reviewing this :) thanks for sticking around. we're almost caught up. just a few more days.