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juniper294, flYegurl, lillypad22, Illucida, Locked in a Stony Tower, pandorad24, BeTrueToThyself, xflightlesxbird, Ren Rain and hopewithgreywings are all awesome for reviewing. Thank you so much for your continued encouragement and support! As much as I love writing this story, I have to admit that your reviews are what make me try so hard to update on a continuous basis.

Warning: this chapter contains brief descriptions of torture and character death. Nothing too graphic (since I really am trying to stick to our T rating), but it's the implications that might be disturbing. If this bothers you, go ahead and skim over the two italicized paragraphs in Iggy's POV. Also a warning for some patches of angst throughout, and questionable use of pills.

Disclaimer: Not mine! Except the plot, idea and my OC's.

hopewithgreywings: Ack! Okay, it's here! Enjoy. :)

Chapter Fourteen: A Mercy Plea

When Fang opened his eyes, his first thought was that he had gone blind. A spike of fear lanced through his constricted chest before the sounds of a thrumming helicopter rotor and the stench of Eraser registered to his fuzzy head. Then everything came rushing back in on him like a tide: getting shot, waking up in a hospital bed with a whitecoat leaning over him, being tied up and carried to the hospital's roof, the helicopter, Max, and then a black bag over his head and a needle in his arm...

"Yes, sir," a deep voice said from Fang's right. The boy shifted on the helicopter's floor, wincing at the pain radiating from his bound hands. He was starting to feel claustrophobic. It was all he could do not to strain against his restraints and try to break free. But he knew even if he tried, he wouldn't get anywhere.

"Yes, Doctor Stark. We still have tabs on the flock. They've split up, just as you planned."

Fang went still. Anders, as he remembered the man who'd kidnapped him was called, sounded like he was talking on the phone to someone. Stark. Fang had been a little distracted when Max was interrogating the other whitecoat in the van - Rickman, or something like that - but he had caught the name of the man who had orchestrated Iggy's capture.

Split up? Fang covertly tried to untie his hands behind his back. It didn't matter if it was a futile effort, he just had to try.

"Maximum and the one they call Angel are trailing us. The other two should be on their way to Canada...and right to you, sir."

Something growled near Fang. He went still, pretending to be unconscious when a heavy boot nudged his side. An Eraser, probably trying to check if he was awake. Fang waited a second before renewing his efforts to escape.

"Reinforcements are less than two hours away, by our calculations," Anders said. "When they arrive, the mutants will not stand a chance."

"Hey!" Rickman's reedy voice interrupted Anders's conversation and Fang's efforts to break free. "The freak's awake!"

Fang gave up trying to be sneaky and arched his back, lifting off the floor in an attempt to free his bound wrists. But he was too late. The last thing he heard before an Eraser's boot slammed into his face and the world went spinning back into darkness was a tinny voice, laughing on the other end of Anders's phone.

Can you hear me?

Iggy's first instinct was to turn away from the sound, to cover his ears and hope that whoever was asking him questions when it was obvious that he was dying would take a hint. His limbs felt thin and brittle, like they would snap if he dared move a muscle. A wobbling groan warbled from his aching throat. Jeez, what had they done, stuck a screwdriver down his esophagus?

Igneous. Iggy.

That's my name, don't wear it out, came the automatic response. Yet something held him back. Maybe it was the throbbing pain in the back of his skull, or better yet, the feeling that he was floating high above the ground, that he'd forgotten something really important, and the minute he remembered, he would come crashing back down to earth. And there would be no more time for jokes.

Son, the stubborn voice called gently.

Iggy groaned. "Go away, Jeb."

A pair of relieved sighs blew over his head. "He's okay," a deep voice like chocolate said. Jacob, his fuzzy mind placed a second later. What's Jacob doing here? Where is here?

"Jacob?" Iggy asked. He opened his eyes, not that it made any difference in what he saw. What he saw…

Something niggled at the back of his mind like a termite. Dread rose in his stomach, but before he could remember just what he'd forgotten, Jacob placed a gentle hand on his forehead. Yowch, the guy had cold hands. Or maybe Iggy's forehead was just very hot. Belatedly, he realized he was shivering violently.

"I'm here, boy," Jacob said reassuringly. "And your father, and Ari."

Ari! I can't let him see me like this, he'll hold it over my head for a year—

Iggy surged upright, his hands pushing off of the comfort of a plush mattress. The movement jolted his head. Sudden, blinding pain rocketed through his skull, like a billion suns had imploded in his brain. Iggy shrieked and clutched his head, knuckles digging into his scalp, his teeth grinding against each other until he thought his jaw might break. Frantic hands pushed at his shoulders, trying to make him lie down again, but his head was spinning and that niggling feeling was pushing to the forefront of his mind—

Home. An E-shaped house, just like Max and the others described it. His flock. He could see them. Each and every one of them. His family. His friends. Max, Fang, Nudge, Gazzy, Angel. Joy unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He could see, he could see…

A cold room. A white room. Needles and Eraser jaws, and they were cutting off his flock's wings with rusty saws, dumping the mutilated bodies at his feet when they were done, and he was next, and he couldn't do anything but watch and scream, scream, scream—blood, spreading and everywhere and in his mouth and hair and under his fingernails and pleasemakeitstop, I don't want to see anymore, pleasepleaseplease—

Stinging pain erupted across his cheek, snapping his head to the side. Dimly, Iggy heard Jeb and Jacob cry out in shock—"Ari!"—and then a set of heavy hands gripped his shoulders and shook him hard enough to rattle his brain in his screaming head.

"Stop it!" Ari screamed in his face. "Stop it, stop it!" He shook Iggy again when the boy didn't respond. Iggy blinked, stunned, his mouth open in shock and his throat on fire. Vaguely, he realized he must have been screaming. And Ari had slapped him. Something told him he should have been upset about this, but all he could think about was the flock dying right in front of him.

"I-I…" he gasped. "I saw…"

"Don't," Ari snarled. Something like hate tinted his rough voice, but Iggy got the sense that it wasn't directed at him. "Don't say anything. Don't even think about what you saw. Don't think about it at all. Because if you do then it'll only get worse, and then it'll get into your dreams, and you'll never be the same. You'll see it every time you look at them. So don't. Be quiet. Be quiet."

Iggy's teeth clicked as he opened and closed his mouth silently. It was a nightmare. Nothing else. A nightmare. A dream. Everything's fine.

But it wasn't. He felt his body shudder, his throat clench, and Ari must have seen that he was about to cry out, because he gripped the back of Iggy's head and mashed the boy's face into his shoulder.

"Quiet," he rumbled. And that was all it took for Iggy to come undone, for him to sob silently into Ari's shoulder and grip the Eraser's jacket as if it was the only thing keeping him linked to sanity.

How long they stayed like that, Iggy almost falling off the bed with his face buried in Ari's shoulder, and Ari kneeling on the floor with one hand on the back of Iggy's head and the other an angry fist curled by his side, Iggy couldn't tell. All he knew was that he was exhausted by the time his noiseless cries died, more exhausted and limp than he'd been in a long, long while. And he was incredibly uncomfortable, wanted to pull away and act as if nothing had happened, but Ari wasn't letting go and Iggy wasn't ready to face anyone yet.

Eventually, he had to come up for air. Ari was pressing Iggy's face into his shoulder a little too close for comfort, and the winged boy found that he could only get oxygen through his mouth. "Mmmrph," he said, and pushed on Ari's chest with his hands. Ari grunted and released him.

Free, Iggy slumped into a seated position on the floor. He directed his swollen, sightless eyes to where the ground was, his face flooding with color and heat once he realized that he had just broken down in front of two of the people he distrusted most in the world. And he'd just cried into Ari's shoulder! Ari, who had no right to smash Iggy's face into his shoulder and tell him to be quiet when screaming about it would have only made Iggy more embarrassed later.

Jeb's knees clicked as he rose and settled a hand on Iggy's shoulder. There was something uncertain in his voice when he spoke. Hollow amusement twitched at Iggy's lips; Jeb was out of practice at being a father.

"Do you need to talk about it?" his father asked solemnly. Iggy winced and shook his head vehemently.

"Not now," he said hoarsely. "I think…I want to sleep."

"Yes, of course." Jeb went away for a second while Jacob helped Iggy back into bed—he ached like someone had run him through the dry cleaner a couple dozen times. Ari was so quiet Iggy nearly forgot he was there.

"Here," Jeb said just when Iggy had gotten under the covers. He pressed a pill into the boy's hand. "Normally, I wouldn't…but this is different. It will keep the nightmares away."

Iggy took it dry, and a minute later, the world dropped away. He slept for a long time, and hours later, woke to find a hand on his shoulder. Someone was snoring softly at the side of his bed.

"He fell asleep waiting for you to wake up," Jacob's voice whispered in the quiet. Jeb's hand left his shoulder, though the snores continued, and Iggy could only assume that Jacob had moved his father's hand for him.

"Do you need help?" Jacob asked, still in that almost-silent whisper. Iggy started to shake his head, but a short-lived attempt to sit upright had him admitting otherwise. Jacob helped him out of bed and supported him when he swayed on his feet.

"It still hurts, doesn't it?" he asked as he led Iggy away from the bed.

Iggy nodded. Like all hell, he wanted to say, but the ache in his body was nothing compared to the agony he'd felt during the real thing. "Where are we?" he whispered instead.

"Jeb's quarters. We brought you here after the…the experiment. Stark can't monitor us here; even whitecoats are allowed some privacy rights."

Stark. Iggy shuddered at the name, hatred and fear surging in his gut. If he ever set foot in the same room as the man again, he would tear him to pieces. Or run. Or both. He didn't know; he was torn between loathing and terror, and it was starting to give him a headache on top of his already-present headache.

"Where's Ari?" he asked, sensing the lack of a third presence in Jeb's rooms.

"He went down to the combat rooms to blow off some steam after you fell asleep," Jacob answered, and ushered Iggy into a chair. "He was very upset about what they did to you."

Iggy snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Don't be so quick to judge," Jacob chided him gently. "I think it reminded him of what they did to him when he was younger."

Iggy frowned. He'd known Ari must have gone through terrible things when Jeb left him for the flock, but he hadn't thought it would be so hard for the kid. He was Jeb's son. Wouldn't they have cut him some slack?

Apparently not, a dark voice muttered in the back of his head. He went through the same level of torture you did, but he was only three then…

A shudder shook his shoulders at the thought. Don't think about it at all, Ari's voice echoed in his brain. Because if you do then it'll only get worse, and then it'll get into your dreams, and you'll never be the same. You'll see it every time you look at them.

It had sounded like he was speaking from experience. Had Ari been talking about the flock as well, or the whitecoats? Was that why he hated the flock so much, besides the reasons circling around Jeb? What did he see every time Max appeared in front of him?

Jacob's calming voice drew Iggy back to the present. "We have to get some food into you."

"I'm not hungry." No sooner had he finished protesting, a gurgle erupted from his stomach. Iggy scowled.

"I'll get you some toast," Jacob said good-naturedly.

While the man puttered about the kitchen, Iggy felt his way around, trying to take in his surroundings. There was a plastic table in front of him and three more chairs set around it. A sleek tile floor sucked the warmth from his bare feet, leaving them somewhat numb—like he'd felt when the saw blade landed on Max's wing—

"Here you go," Jacob said cheerfully. The clattering of the plate on the table jolted Iggy from his daze. He shivered, feeling bile rise in his throat, and hurriedly shoved a piece of toast in his mouth. Be quiet, he repeated. Don't think about it. Don't think about it at all.

In a matter of minutes, the plate, with the toast and eggs Jacob had generously piled onto it, was clean. Iggy pushed his face into his hands, basking in the feeling of being full. Don't think about it at all.

"I want a shower," he muttered, threading his fingers through his lank hair. It'd gotten greasy and blood-stained during his stay at the School, and desperately needed a wash. If Max could see me now, she'd be wondering if she was under some kind of hallucinogen the whitecoats cooked up. Imagine, me, actually wanting to take a shower.

"This way." Jacob led him from the tiny kitchen to the bathroom, where he ran the water and helped Iggy locate the shampoo and soap. Iggy made sure the door was locked when Jacob left, and set about undressing before making his cautious way into the shower.

He practically melted under the clean, warm water. It was like the shower was washing away all the fear, anger and worry he'd felt ever since being kidnapped and thrown back into the nuthouse. More than four days' worth—he hadn't really had a chance to shower while breaking Angel and the others out of the Death Valley School—of sweat and grime came away under the soap and shampoo.

He stayed there for a while, stretching his wings out and letting his aching muscles relax under the hot water. Actually, it was a little too warm. He was starting to get the sense that it was burning his skin in long trails, running down his back and chest like—blood spraying his face, his family's blood, drowning him in a shower of red—

Instinctively, Iggy yelped and lashed out. The slick floor betrayed his feet and in a moment he'd lost his balance and landed hard on his back. One of his wings collided loudly with the shower door, rattling it.

"Darn it," Iggy muttered, and turned the water off. Sliding the shower door open, he had just reached for a towel when Jeb's worried voice came through the bathroom door.

"Iggy? Are you all right?"

"Fine," Iggy called irritably, annoyed with himself for falling over like some kind of clumsy toddler. Annoyed with Jeb for waking up and rushing to his aid like that, like he deserved to act like a father.

"Are you sure?" Jeb asked.

"Yeah, Jeb." Iggy wrapped the towel around himself and stepped out of the shower. He reached out a hand and groped around for his clothes. His grimy, torn clothes.

Almost as if he'd read Iggy's mind, Jeb said, "I have something for you to wear. Will you open the door?"

Iggy grunted. "Fine."

A wave of cold air rushed in the second he opened the door. Jeb pressed a set of clean clothes into his hands.

"The shirt's thick and the jeans are sturdy enough," he said. "I know it can get cold in here. And they should fit you well enough, since you're about my height."

"Thanks," Iggy muttered, and closed the door again. He dressed quickly, not wanting to stay in the stuffy bathroom any more than he had to. He desperately needed something to distract himself. Something that didn't have to do with Erasers or saws or blood.

But Jeb will want me to go right back to training with the Extermination Effect, he reminded himself glumly. The Exter…He froze.

The Extermination Effect! Dag—the DNA samples—how could he have forgotten everything he'd found out?

"Jeb!" Iggy fumbled with the bathroom door's lock. "Jeb?"

Jeb was there in an instant, his voice concerned. "What is it, Iggy?"

"I remembered—" Iggy pulled the door open and grinned at where he knew his father's head would be. He knew he must look somewhat deranged, with his hair flying in all directions and his face flushed, but he didn't care. "I have something important to tell you. About the Extermination Effect."

Jeb had him seated in a chair at the kitchen table, spilling the information he'd gathered before Iggy could blink. Both Jeb and Jacob listened patiently while Iggy told his story, from how Dag had been thrown into the cage next to him, to Stark's arrival. When he was finished, both whitecoats had fallen into a deep silence.

"The trigger has to be in one of three places," Jacob finally said. "One: Stark's office. That seems the most obvious choice. That, or his archives. It's where he keeps all the confidential material he doesn't want anyone else lying eyes on. But my best bet would be on his office. You know Stark, Jebidiah. He would want to have the trigger nearby, just to feel like he's in control."

"And the third place?" Iggy prompted.

"Anne Chen's quarters," Jeb answered grimly.

"He would trust her with that?" Iggy asked doubtfully. Stark—jerk, I'll break his nose next time he gets close to me—didn't seem like the kind of man who would trust anyone but himself.

Jacob sighed wearily. "I think you underestimate just how devoted Anne is to Stark. She deifies him, has since before I first got here. He's more than a boss to her. He's like a god."

"He knows that and, arrogant as he is, assumes that she would never turn against his word," Jeb picked up. There was a measure of disgust in his words that Iggy had rarely heard before, but he sympathized completely. Why anyone would idolize Stark, he had no idea.

"The question is," Jacob said, "how do we find out which location is the right one?"

Iggy lost track of the conversation from there. The pain from his ordeal didn't like to be shoved into the back of his awareness, and now that his muscles were cooling down from the shower and tensing up, he was suddenly aware of a bone-deep ache echoing throughout his entire body. He pressed the heels of his hands into his throbbing eyes. Jeez, he couldn't remember the last time he hurt this much. Even his wings felt like they'd been stamped on. He felt like a war veteran, with old wounds that just wouldn't go away even after the fight was over.

"…ggy?" Jeb's alarmed voice penetrated the haze that had settled over him. "Iggy? What's wrong?"

"Nngh," Iggy ground out from between clenched teeth. The images were starting to creep up on him again, like monsters in the night. Don't think about it, Ari's mantra kicked up again. Don't think about it.

"I'm fine." Iggy lowered his hands to his lap and sat up straight. He'd been through worse before. He could take this. This was nothing. Just a minor setback. Just a little thing.

"Do you need to lie down?" Jacob asked in concern. Iggy shook his head at the kind-hearted man's offer. The last thing he wanted was to be idle. With nothing else to occupy itself, his mind would turn to the ordeal to keep itself busy.

He forced himself to his feet, scraping the chair along the tiled floor as he rose. "We should…get out and look for more clues," he said with a clenched jaw. He was determined not to show weakness in front of Jeb. Come on, you're strong. You can get over this. "Or…or practice overcoming the Extermination Effect. Didn't you say we don't have much time left, Jeb?"

"Five days," Jeb clarified. Air whistled through his teeth as he took in a deep breath. "That's…plenty of time. I think we can afford a mercy plea for today."

Iggy frowned. Was Jeb doing what he thought he was? "A mercy plea?"

"Jeb's way of saying we can take a day off," Jacob clarified fondly.

"A day off?" Iggy repeated. "We can do that?"

"I'll come up with an excuse," Jeb said. His bones creaked like an old man's when he rose from the table, and Iggy didn't flinch away this time when hands descended on his shoulders. Jeb was…risking the mission? For him? Since when did he do things like that?

"What they did to you today was cruel and wrong in every way possible," Jeb said quietly. "And you have no idea how much I hate myself for not coming to your side when you needed me. But it made me realize that…that I have more important things to worry about than making sure Maximum is prepared for her final duty. The world will always pick itself up again, will always be there. You, and Ari, and everyone else I put aside for my duty…won't. You won't be. And I'm not going to lose you again because of my mistakes."

Iggy was still. He could feel the lines of tension in his father's trembling grip, knew the man was speaking as deeply from his misled heart as he could, but still two years of separation engulfed the space between them.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" he asked softly. Jeb's hands retreated from his shoulders. Disappointment and despair tainted the air.

"Because I believe he is," Jacob suddenly said. His chair scraped the floor as he pushed up from the table. "Believe me, I know a bad man when I see one—they're all over this godforsaken place. And I also know a liar when I see one. And your father's neither."

Iggy rocked back in surprise. In the short amount of time he'd known the man, he'd never heard Jacob quite this…convinced of himself. He was sure, without a doubt, that Jeb was speaking the truth. That, and the way Jeb had shaken when he spoke (Jeb always shook whenever he was experiencing a strong emotion), was enough to convince Iggy.

It was like the world had tipped on its axis. Jeb had just admitted that he'd committed wrong, horrible mistakes, and then he'd gone on to practically pledge himself to his family. This was something the old Jeb would do. Maybe Iggy's father hadn't been a complete lie, then. Maybe he'd actually meant it when he told the flock he loved them, or tucked baby Angel into her crib with caring hands, or helped Iggy around while he got accustomed to a world drenched in black.

"You're serious," was all he could think to say.

Jeb forced out a wheezing, breathy laugh. "Yes, Iggy, I'm serious."

"Oh." He just stood there for a moment, soaking it in, before leveling his father with a grim glare. "You know you still have to convince the flock that you're on our side. They're not going to make it easy on you."

The man made an uncomfortable sound. "Yes," he admitted slowly. "But…to get my family back, it's worth it."

So there it was.

All Iggy really wanted to do at the moment was take another of those pills and pass out on the bed, but he, Jeb and Jacob all agreed that the first thing they had to do was find Ari and tell him that he didn't need to go search Dag out for information. Iggy held onto Jeb's shirttail as they made their way from the first level to the last, no longer feeling the confliction he'd experienced whenever he was forced to hold onto Jeb for support. He still hadn't forgiven the man completely; Jeb would have to work hard if he was going to earn Iggy's forgiveness. But at least he now knew that Jeb was really on their side. He didn't think the man would otherwise risk the entire mission just to give Iggy a day off.

Which I would really enjoy, if it weren't in this psycho ward they call a school, he thought darkly.

"The combat rooms are just down the hall," Jacob said cheerfully. "We should be there in no t—Ari?"

The trio came to a shuddering halt. "What are you doing here?" Ari's growling voice asked sulkily.

"What's going on?" Iggy whispered to Jeb.

"We've stopped at the medical room," his father answered. The smell hit Iggy over the head the instant he, Jeb and Jacob filed through the door. The very air reeked of dried blood and antiseptics. He could almost hear the echo of screaming mutants.

Or maybe he was just nervous. The memory of Stark's serum was still fresh in his mind, creeping up on him even as he tried to distract himself from lingering on the images too long.

The horror must have shown on his face, because a moment later Jeb was helping Iggy up onto a hospital gurney. "Calm down," he said. "Slow your breathing."

"Trying," Iggy muttered, but fighting down the panic was a losing battle. An image of Gazzy, wingless and bleeding, flashed through his head. He flinched and gasped, fingers clutching the edge of the gurney.

Jeb smoothed Iggy's hair out of his eyes. "They're only hallucinations," he murmured. "The flock is fine."

"How do you know that?" Iggy asked gravely.

"Because," Ari's voice interrupted gruffly from a short distance away, "I know they are. Ouch, would you—stop touching it, Marling, I said it will heal!"

"It needs stitches!" Jacob insisted.

"It needs to stop being poked at, that's what it needs!" Ari bellowed. "St—ow! Marling!"

"What's happening?" Iggy's panic faded at the sound of Ari's angry protests and Jacob's staunch statements that the wound would fester if it was left alone. Jeb let out a dry chuckle.

"It looks like someone was a bit too enthusiastic in taking Ari on as an opponent."

"Rawley," Ari supplied, a vicious lilt to his voice. "He tried to bite off my arm for the beating we gave him. Stupid jerk. Should know when to back off. And I can take care of myself, Marling, so leave it alone!"

"Stacking a hundred Band-aids over the wound isn't going to help it, Ari," Jacob said gently. "Here—let me see it! It'll get infected!"

Recognizing that the struggle between doctor and Eraser was going downhill, Iggy filled his lungs with air and shouted, "What did you mean, you know the flock's okay?"

Ari and Jacob finally quieted down. "Whitecoats usually don't hide things around us Erasers," Ari said curtly. "They don't think we're smart enough to understand what they're saying, or something like that. Anyway, I heard that Stark's angry because the flock was supposed to be captured, but they got away. So they're fine. Whatever you saw back there, in that room, it's a lie. Just thought you should know."

A buzzing silence melted over the room after Ari's announcement. Iggy took the chance to fill his lungs with as much air as they could hold, and then released it in a long sigh.

"Thanks," he muttered to Ari. The Eraser only grunted.

A few more minutes passed mostly in silence, with Jacob dousing Ari's wounded arm in medicine and bandaging the puncture marks the proper way. Jeb stayed by Iggy's side, his unwavering hand on the boy's shoulder acting as a comfort. Iggy was just starting to relax, thinking that he could make it through the day without thinking about Stark's serum again, when a group of whitecoats came bursting into the room. Automatically, he froze, going taut as a slingshot as the smell of fresh blood permeated the dead air.

"Easy," Jeb said softly, rubbing comforting circles into Iggy's back. "Easy, Iggy, they're not here for you."

"Batchelder!" A man's voice rang out in surprise from the chattering mass of whitecoats. "Didn't think we'd find you here. Shouldn't you be locked in your room? I hear Stark's got it out for you."

Iggy squeezed his eyes shut and tried to blend in with the wall. Too late. The saw came hurtling down onto Max's wing, the impact arching her spine until she looked like she might snap in half…

"Good evening, Mr. Steele," Jeb greeted the other whitecoat frostily. "How is Mr. Anders doing?"

"Fine," Steele grunted sharply. "Off on business. But enough about us. What about you, and your little mutant back there? I see it's trying to hide against the wall. How cute. Stark's serum must have really done a number on it, huh, Batchelder?"

A row of laughter rose up from the other whitecoats, but Iggy barely heard it. All he could hear was his family screaming—Iggy! Iggy, help!—and the sound of his own wretched, helpless shrieks echoing through the room. He clamped his hands over his ears and curled into a ball on top of the gurney.

"He's none of your concern," Jeb said angrily. His hand left Iggy's shoulder, and suddenly the boy felt incredibly vulnerable and unprotected. Soundlessly, his mouth formed the words, come back, but his voice couldn't squeeze past the lump in his throat.

"Let us have a look at it," a woman's voice filtered in through the flock's screaming. "I hear its kind are the most successful recombinants yet."

A murmur of agreement rippled around the room as more of the whitecoats started to pay attention to the scene playing out before them. Cold, heart-stopping fear rose in Iggy's chest. Jeb might be standing up for him, but he couldn't hold against a dozen determined whitecoats with direct lines to Stark.

Get me out, he thought. The whitecoats' chatter surged in his ears, clashing with the screaming in his head. Get me out!

The gurney jerked violently beneath him. Iggy heard Jeb cry out in surprise, "Ari, what're you—"

Ari didn't even wait for his father to finish asking his question. With a rough push of his hands, the rolling gurney shot forward. Iggy clung to the gurney's rails for dear life as it collided sharply with something that went aieee, and then Ari pushed them out of the medical room and into the hallway.

"What are you—" Ari cut off Iggy's question with another heave of his arms, and then they were hurtling down the hallway, and the winged boy was too busy trying not to be thrown off to ask anything more. The wind brushed his hair from his face. They were going fast enough that Iggy knew he'd probably be sore for hours if Ari crashed the gurney, but though they nearly rammed into three people and almost tipped over twice, Ari kept running far away from the medical room.

Iggy leaned into the wind and stretched out his wings, letting them catch some of the air. A second later, Ari decided to come to an abrupt halt.

"Ack!" Iggy flew off the gurney, but managed to spare himself serious injury with a push of his wings. He hit the ground and rolled, finally coming to a stop on his back, wings and arms spread wide open.

For a while, they stayed like that, Ari panting to catch his breath, Iggy lying flat on his back on the floor. Something breathy rose in Iggy's throat, and before he knew what he was doing, he laughed. Long, loud, as if Ari were Gazzy and they'd just pulled off the most magnificent escape ever.

"What's wrong with you?" Ari asked grumpily when Iggy curled in on himself, tears of mirth pooling at the corners of his eyes.

"S-sorry," he gasped, starting to settle down. "I…I wish I could have seen their…faces…!"

Ari was quiet. Then he chuckled, just a little bit, and said, "Yeah. You should have seen Steele's face when I ran him over."

"You ran him…?" Iggy lifted his head to stare open-mouthed in Ari's direction. "You ran him over?"

"He deserved it."

"Ha." The laughter finally died down in Iggy's throat. Lifting himself to his elbows, he asked seriously, "Why did you…do that?"

"Do what?" Ari asked, and Iggy could tell that he'd made the other boy uncomfortable, but he wanted to understand.

"What you just did. You have to know that they're gonna punish you for it."

"So what? It was worth it. I've wanted to do that for a long time." Ari hesitated. Then, he said so quickly Iggy could barely pick the sentence apart, "And sometimes it helps if you run away from it."

There was no question what "it" was. The last remnants of mirth withered away in Iggy's chest at the thought of Stark's serum. He knew that he shouldn't be running away from his fears, but the thought of confronting them only made him feel sick.

Not yet, he thought to himself. I'm not ready yet.

"Uh, okay," he said, realizing that Ari seemed to want him to say something in turn. "I don't… Listen. I don't know why you're doing this for me, but thanks. Thanks for that and for…earlier."

Ari shifted uncomfortably at the reference to holding Iggy while he cried. It was obviously something neither he nor the winged boy wanted to revisit. "Seeing what they did to you kind of snapped me out of it," the Eraser said. "I guess you're not the golden boy I thought you were."

"No," Iggy said grimly. "I never was. And neither is Max, if you're gonna go down that road again. They hate her even more than they hate me, if that's possible."

Ari made a dismissive noise. "Here," he said. Iggy blinked and waved out a hand, confused. His fingers brushed against Ari's, and he realized that the other boy was reaching out to help him up.

"Come on, are you gonna take it or not?" Ari asked impatiently.

Iggy grinned, and wordlessly clasped Ari's hand.

Nehemiah was not happy. He'd had Jebidiah Batchelder, the traitor - he knew it, there was no other explanation for how the flock had evaded capture for so long - well within his grasp, had the means to make the man squirm. Anne had been there to act as a witness, the winged mutant strapped neatly onto the examination table, and then it had started screaming and the sound had been beautiful, exquisite.

But Batchelder hadn't moved a muscle.

Seated straight-backed in a rigid chair, the only sign that betrayed Nehemiah's cold fury was the silent curling of his fingers into a fist.

"Any update, sir?" Anne asked in a simpering tone. He spared her an emotionless glance. She stood right behind him, her almond-shaped eyes focused on the security video recordings in front of them. As always, she seemed to feel his gaze on her. Her breathing became shallower, her movements jerky and nervous. Oh, he knew how she idolized him. But it didn't mean she feared him any less than everyone else.

"None," Nehemiah said silkily, the cool collectedness of his voice belaying the simmering fury stirring inside of him. He knew she was asking after the situation with the other avian mutants, but, ha - the mere thought of including her in on his most secret plans was laughable. Poor, weak-minded little woman. As appealing and useful as she was, as far as he was concerned, she was on the same level of intelligence as some of the smarter Erasers. "Batchelder has maintained his focus and posture well. We're back to block one."

He studied the video recordings, calmly ignoring Anne's soft-voiced chatter. As he watched from the surveillance angle of a camera positioned on the School's last level, Ari and the winged mutant came hurtling down a hallway. The Eraser and avian suddenly stopped. Nehemiah watched what happened next with interest. The Eraser, whom he'd thought hated the winged mutant, offered the other mutant a helping hand. And then the two walked off, out of sight, back the way they'd come.

Nehemiah scanned the other videos until he found the one he was looking for. It was positioned just outside the medical room. As he watched, Batchelder and Marling (who he'd been rather disappointed to find was working with the traitor. After all, the man was the best doctor they had when it came to fixing mutants rather than breaking them...but no matter. He'd get a better replacement) trotted out into the open. There, the Eraser and winged mutant greeted them.

There was no mistaking the adoration in the Eraser's gaze when he looked upon his traitorous father. Nehemiah watched closely, brilliant mind hard at work.

"Ms. Chen," he said smoothly, reaching out a lazy hand to brush against the bare skin of her forearm. "When I give the word, have this Eraser - Ari - brought into my office. And, ah, do be on your best behavior. We don't want to frighten him off."

She was caught up in his spell, too absorbed by the pressure of his fingers on her skin to ask why he wanted to see Ari. Not that he would have told her anyway.

"Yes, sir," she said softly.

"Good girl," he murmured, and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Just for good measure.

A/N: End chapter 14. Thanks for reading - and don't forget to review! Even just a short line to let me know you're there and enjoying the story is appreciated.

Preview of Chapter Fifteen:

"Come in, Ari. Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. You look like you've had a busy day." Stark leaned forward in his chair and threaded his fingers on the surface of his metal desk. There was a smile on his face, and if it hadn't been so downright creepy—it reminded Ari of Rawley when he'd pinned a helpless victim in the corridors—it would have been welcoming.

"Am I in trouble?" It was the first thing that popped into Ari's head, and therefore the first thing that came out of his mouth. He clamped his jaws shut, worried that he might have set Stark off…but the silver-haired man only chuckled pleasantly and shook his head.

"Oh, no, Ari. Just the opposite, in fact."

-Kimsa