Disclaimer: So, I was attempting to stick together some planks of wood I stole from a nearby construction site in the vague structure of a wing. I then covered my creation with pages from my best friend ( my diary ). After a lengthy debate between myself and … well, myself ( a very gripping and toe curling debate it was ) I decided that sawdust does indeed make a good replacement for feathers. Soon, once I contact my accomplice, and we apply the sawdust to my already-klag-glue-covered wing structure, we will be unstoppable!! Iggy and Angel don't stand a chance!
xxxxx
"…outlook for the week shows that the rainy weather will continue, lightening up on Saturday. Forecast for today is 23 degrees Celsius, cloudy, with a risk of heavy showers and thunder in the afternoon. There's also a strong wind warning for…"
Max's mother sighed. "All this horrible weather, and in summer, too."
"Hmmm…" a deep voice rumbled from the armchair next to her. Max's father, home for the first time in weeks, picked up the remote and changed the channel to the cricket. He settled himself further into his comfortable seat, picking up his glass of beer and slurping contentedly. Work was intense, these days, and it was only rarely that he got to relax at home like this.
"You should have said you'd pick Max up from school," he said to his wife. "She'll have to walk back from the bus stop in a storm, if the weather man was right."
Max's mother sighed and nodded, "Yes, I should have. It just didn't cross my mind. But you never know," she murmured, "That weather man has been wrong so many times before…"
Her husband grunted an agreement, and then waved a hand at the television, indicating that the conversation was over, and now the cricket beckoned, domineering all his attention.
xxxxx
A crash of thunder boomed, rattling the windows of the dilapidated bus. There were a few gasps heard from the seats around her, but Max didn't even flinch. Neither did the boy beside her.
She stared straight ahead towards the front of the bus, mind forcefully blank. She'd discovered this was the best tactic for pushing back the nauseating rush of nostalgia that erupted whenever that breached barricade in her mind allowed a memory to slip forth.
Max chewed her bottom lip, worried that this endless loop of schooling her mind to blankness, slipping up, seeing another face, scene, wing… anything, then fighting that enormous battle that had become commonplace, to thrust back the longing she felt for the skies and for her friends. For her family. Her dysfunctional family of genetic hybrids. She longed to see Angel's pretty, innocent face again, and Gazzy's determined blue gaze which contrasted sharply with the youth his features displayed. She missed Nudge's constant chatter, and the vibrancy of her deep brown eyes. Iggy's biting sarcasm, and resolute pessimism, the way his blindness never seemed to be a disability.
And Fang…
Max gritted her teeth, angry with herself. Her clenched jaw the only outward sign of irritation, she began to viciously empty her mind of all memories not related to her normal life.
Sifting through the images in her head, she slowly managed to clear it. Sitting on the bus with Sam? Fine. Wings? Definitely not. Lissa following Nick around like a doe eyed puppy? Uh…
Max grinned to herself. That occurrence had happened in both of her lives, as she now thought of her situation. There was her life now, and her past life. And Lissa had been in a dumb state of pathetic admiration when it came to Nick in both of these lives.
Finally satisfied with the empty quality of her head, she relaxed. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, she turned to her right, finding herself gazing right into Nick's face. Looking past him, she saw rain pummelling the windows of the bus.
She was going to get wet again, then. It was raining much harder than the day before.
Returning her blue eyes to Nick, she raised an eyebrow. "What?"
She scowled when Nick shook his head, telling herself she shouldn't have expected him to actually speak.
It had been a strangely awkward bus ride, so far. She had surprised herself when she opted to sit next to Nick in favour of finding an empty seat. He had openly stared at her as she plonked herself down, and his eyes hadn't roamed much since. At first, he had looked like he wanted to talk about what had happened yesterday. About everything, but Max had chattered on about meaningless and trivial things, like what she had done in English, and what movies were showing at the local cinema.
Nick's eyes had darkened and narrowed, but his gaze hadn't left her face. His stare held an intensity equal to the one it had displayed the day before, and he had seemed to be drinking in her features, etching them into his mind.
Eventually, Max had been satisfied she had got her point across, and allowed herself to lapse into silence, focusing on keeping her mind blank to dispel the onslaught of painful, happy and just plain emotional memories that had attacked her mind earlier in the day, before she had devised the ingenious tactic of keeping nothing in her head at all.
It was only when she actually thought about things that the memories flooded her brain. Max supposed this was because the little things she might have been thinking about aligned with something that had happened, thus opening the tide gate a little, and then the flow became bigger and bigger, until she managed to shove everything back. Max had become fully acquainted with the idea that perhaps, she was indeed going insane.
Eyes drifting away from Nick, she focused on the scenery outside the window. Her stop was next. Reaching up, she pressed the button, and the light at the front of the bus blinked on.
Vaguely, she wondered where Sam was. He hadn't been at school today.
Jiggling her foot anxiously, now eager to leave the small, humid and cramped space of the bus, Max reached for her bag. When the bus pulled laboriously to a halt, she fought the urge to leap up, instead rising gracefully, picking her way through the schoolbags littered carelessly down the aisle.
She breathed a sigh of relief as the cold air from outside hit her, and revelled in the feeling of the rain on her face. She stepped down the steps, only realising then that she'd forgotten to farewell Nick. That left a bitter taste in her mouth, as she remembered what he had said yesterday, before she left him standing in the rain.
"Tomorrow's the last day."
Today's the last day.
She (figuratively) heard the barrier in her mind creak, and quickly cleared her head. She stayed where she was on the pavement, waiting for the bus to pull away. As it did, she heard a splash, which sounded rather like a foot stepping in a puddle.
Max looked behind her in surprise. "Nick? I thought your stop was further on,"
She wasn't sure why she kept up this charade. They both knew it was pointless.
Nick's gaze was wide and piercing. He allowed himself a small, sad chuckle. "You and I both know that I have no bus stop." he said softly.
Max's gaze slid away. "Yeah." she agreed. Reaching up a hand, she wiped away the rain that was dripping down her forehead and into her eyes. It was a pointless action, as the rain would keep falling no matter how many times she brushed it away.
Nick's gaze still hadn't left her face. His eyes were penetrating and there was a quiet longing and desperation embedded deep within them. The intensity of his stare shook Max, and she stepped backwards, gripping the straps of her schoolbag tightly.
The rain rolled down Nick's tanned skin slowly, falling from his long fringe and catching on his dark eyelashes. His eyes were wide as ever, and Max could almost see herself reflected in them, her face blank, only her eyes displaying the raging conflict inside her.
Suddenly, Nick's watch beeped. The sound caused Max to recoil, a feat that the rumbling thunder had not managed to accomplish. She heard a sense of finality in the mechanical sound, and that filled her with an almost unbearable sorrow.
"Nick –" she began, knowing that the watch signalled his time to leave.
Nick interrupted her, stretching out a hand towards her. He said nothing, but his action was enough to silence Max as effectively as if he had bound her mouth with duct tape.
Will you come?
Max didn't know how to answer his unspoken question. She knew for sure that she didn't want Nick to leave. Since he had entered her world, everything had seemed brighter, infused with a new meaning. She had felt something. Something real. She had come to realise what a sham her existence here was.
She remembered the day when she'd seen him at the hospital, when she went to visit Lissa. In the ice cream parlour nearby, he had told her that none of this was real. Her world was a fake, and illusion. She had reacted with anger.
It had truly made her angry that this boy could walk into her life, having only seen her a few times, and see straight through her, into her soul. Max's childhood memories – playing with Sam in a sandpit, laughing with her parents – they all seemed unreal. She had no emotions to go with those memories. In a way, she was unable to classify them as memories because she felt nothing for them. They were just pictures, scenes she remembered without fondness. She remembered when dislocated her shoulder swinging and falling from the monkey bars. She could clearly picture her small, screaming face. But there was nothing else. No pain, no fear, which certainly should have been there, at the sight of her shoulder popped out of its socket and hanging uselessly. Nothing.
This was wasn't real.
But then she tentatively delved into the ocean of memories behind that barrier in her mind. Searching through carefully, she managed to locate something.
Her young face twisted in pain, mouth open in a grimace of pain, cheeks wet with tears. It was an identical expression to the one that had come about as a result of the monkey bars incident. But it was different. Max remembered clearly the agonising pain. The fear and nausea she felt at the sight of her dangling arm.
This was real.
Max remembered not so long ago sharing a joke with Sam. Her face had been completely relaxed of all tension, and she was laughing freely, clutching at her stomach. Her blue eyes were squinted closed, and she had grabbed Sam's shoulder for support, the boy being in equal hysterics.
Shouldn't such a memory at least bring a smile to her face?
She remembered what the joke had been about. It was something insignificant, something that some people probably wouldn't find funny. That scene, that memory, was empty. There was no happiness, no amusement that emerged when she recalled that time.
This wasn't real.
Disturbed by this revelation, which subconsciously, Max had always understood, she again delved behind that barrier.
She and Nick were sitting around a fire. The other four kids, their friends that made up their 'flock' were sleeping around them. Their clothes were dishevelled, faces weary with exhaustion. They were hungry, and didn't have much food to eat. Max and Nick were the only ones left awake, and between them, they were sharing a small can of coke.
Max fought the urge to smile, and then laugh, as she remembered the way she and Nick had laughed themselves silly over some trivial thing. She couldn't even properly remember what it was about, but she did recall how long they had laughed, and how good it had made her feel. All the trials and obstacles they had battered their way through – it all seemed to wash away, leaving behind a feeling of complete happiness and bliss.
This was real.
Suddenly, Max was disgusted with herself. She knew this wasn't real. She knew that her entire life that she thought was true was a lie. But she was still afraid. She knew what she should do. What she had to do. But she wouldn't. She couldn't. She didn't want to continue living a life on the run. She wanted this – she wanted peace, comfort, security.
Could she really throw all this away? Her parents – who weren't really her parents, admittedly – and her friends – who weren't actually her friends – and her home?
---
"Hey, Ig, rise and shine," I said.
"Bite me," Iggy mumbled sleepily.
---
Angel held my hand. "If you make cake, I can make strawberry shortcakes," she said happily.
---
"Take deep breaths," the Gasman advised me, looking concerned.
---
"This is not a democracy. It's a Maxocracy."
---
"Uh-huh," Nudge said, "If we get separated somehow – though I don't see how we could, unless maybe one of us gets lost inside a cloud or something – do you think that could happen? I haven't even been inside a cloud. I bet it's creepy. Can you see anything inside a cloud –"
---
"On the minus side, we're mutant freaks who will never live a normal life."
Fang shrugged. "Win some, lose some."
---
'Mutant freaks who will never live a normal life'. The truth of that statement hit Max hard. Even if she stayed here, forcing herself to forget about the kids who she loved more than life itself, her life would be far from normal. No normal person was plagued with memories of her real life as a mutant avian-human hybrid. No normal person remembered soaring through the air, wings beating with strength and grace. No normal person remembered with satisfaction the feeling of pummelling a fist into a half wolf, half human monster.
No normal person forced herself to forget her loved ones, those who she would have died for.
That's what she was doing. This wasn't all about her, Max realised. Her wants, her desires were unimportant. For Angel and Gazzy. For Nudge and Iggy. For Fang. She was never happier than when she was in his company. She might clash with him occasionally, but she loved every minute of their arguments. She decided, perhaps a little melodramatically, that a life without him wouldn't really be a life at all. She would follow him.
And ultimately, Max knew, that this was what she wanted. She might want this life, this sham of an existence now, but after a few weeks, months, years, she would wish that she could just see her family, her real family. She would be suffocated, and itch to spread her wings and launch herself into the air. Here, she would never be able to fly.
Max blinked, coming back to herself. She was suddenly aware of how drenched she was, and how cold. She was shivering under her thin school jumper, and her hair was plastered to her face. Raising her eyes, she saw Nick still standing there, his hand held out.
His expression bewildered her. Why was he so sad? Isn't this what he wanted? She wanted to go with him now, despite the part of her urging to stay here. Wait – was that a tear, slipping from his dark eyes?
Max stared at him. She opened her mouth to tell him what she had realised, and what she wanted to do, now. As her lips parted, Nick's face contorted with pain. His eyebrows drew together, and he dropped his hand back to his side.
"Goodbye, Max," he whispered, the rain snatching the words away, making her strain to catch them.
Max suddenly realised that he had completely misunderstood her. He thought … he thought that her silence meant she was going to stay here, and live out an empty life.
Max's eyes locked onto his and she opened her mouth again to tell him of what she had really decided.
"No – Nick –" she said desperately. The expression in his eyes caused her to freeze, mouth snapping shut. Or rather, the lack of expression in his eyes caused her reaction. They were empty. Not that carefully constructed façade of emotionless disinterest which he built to hide the true emotions within. Empty.
Nick was gone.
His dark hair was still dripping with water, rain still running down his tanned skin, eyes still as dark brown as ever. His face was still creased into that sad, heartbreaking smile.
But he wasn't there. He had already left.
"Fang!" Max screamed, barely recognising her own voice. Terror struck her as she realised he had truly left, believing that she had not wanted to go with him.
She threw herself towards the empty shell of his body, tears beginning to stream down her face, mingling salt with rain. Maybe if she said the right things, said how she really felt, he'd come back. Maybe if she shook him hard enough, those eyes would come back to life...
As soon as her hands came into contact with his body, he began to shine. Max stopped, uncomprehending. Then the dread set in as his body began to dissolve, removing all evidence that Nick had ever existed.
She watched hopelessly as the boy she now knew she loved dissolved into many brightly coloured pixels, the disjointed spheres of colour drifting apart in the howling storm, taking her hope for the future along with them.
xxxxx
A/N – Right. The last Author's Note I wrote was long, and filled with meaningless babble. I've organised myself! I now have numbered bullet points:
1. Sorry for the wait. I've realised saying that it's 'late' is not technically correct, seeing as I don't really set a date. It's more of a vague 'a few days away', for the next update. So, instead, it's just a, 'sorry it took so long.'
2. Relates to point number 1. I remember way back when, in the earlier chapters, when I'd be able to update every few days. That probably won't happen, as I'm finding it more and more difficult to write. I did three versions of this chapter. THREE!!! And, believe it or not, this was the best of the lot. Win some, lose some, I guess.
3. Despite this being the third draft, I wasn't entirely happy with it. I'm sure you can get why. Honestly, if it's too terrible, please do say, and I might just re-write it ( for the fourth freaking time!! ).
4. ( yeah, numbered bullet points so totally not helping ) I realise that most of this chapter is just Max lost in her thoughts. Yucky. I agree! But, really, it was sort of necessary. Like, she had to totally turn around her way of thinking… and that takes a lot of musing. I do hope you're still awake … So, sorry for that hateful boring crap.
5. ( still going! ) What the hell was up with Max's parents? Where did that come from…?
6. ( are you still here? ) There will be nowhere near as much thinking and lack of anything happening next chapter. Really. And as a side note, really numbered bullet point 7.6, please do, if you review, tell me whether this is so … unbearable that I really do need to change it. It'll take longer, but … maybe it'll be more soulfully fulfilling?
Oh, I am so not doing that again. I still wrote a whole lot of useless crap in there, numbered bullet points or no.
Reviews! –
Ali – Okay, the POVs. I actually think I finally get it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but what I did wrong last time, was that I'd been like, in Max's head, and then I totally switched from her to Fnick. Which is basically what you said in your review, except I just dumbed it down a little … I'm pretty sure I didn't do it in this chapter … if I did, then I give up on ever understanding the mystery of Points of View. Mmm, that last chapter was my favourite so far, too. I just really loved writing it. Glad you liked it. I was concerned about the flashbacks of her traumatic experience, but thanks for not finding it too out of place …
MRACR – Lol, it was my favourite chapter, too. Glad you loved it. I've been horribly slothful, though. I haven't devised any brilliant plans for infiltrating the flock, only a couple of lame ass ones ( see above disclaimer, lol ) and I didn't update any time soon… Oh, and I'm sorry you dislike Iggy. I love him, personally, but I guess he was a bit of a bastard.
me… yet again – would it kill you to sign in? I mean, I do whenever I review your stories. I feel stupid replying to 'me…yet again'. But I don't think it's OOC of Fang at all. He wasn't giving up, per se, but he recognised that there was nothing that he could physically do. He just had to trust in Max to remember, and he couldn't trust her to do that. Because she was such a complete and utter … well, loser. Yeah?
unknown – only as insane as me!! ( cackles ) you're fine, then, right? XD
RandR!!!!
