A/N: EVERYONE EVERYONE ALERT ALERT BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP EVERYBODY GO BACK *RIGHT NOW* AND RE READ CHAPTER TWENTY I MADE A BUNCH OF MAJOR CHANGES SO GO BACK RIGHT NOW AND READ IT THANK YOU

It is very bright in the room. I close my eyes against the light, but someone pushes them back open and peers into them. I open my mouth to cry, but then I see my reflection in the man's eyes, and it startles me into silence. My mouth hangs open.

"She's a twin?" the man asks, letting go of my face. I don't close my eyes this time; instead, I keep them open, alert and watchful.

"Yes, sir." I twist around to see another man standing at attention, his back straight. He consults some papers in his hand. "Identical, sir."

"That's impossible," the man holding me snaps. "Boy and girl twins cannot be identical."

"I must disagree, sir," says the other man. "When there's avian DNA inside them, there's no telling what might happen."

I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke I was not in Fang's arms anymore. I was in a clean white room, folded inside some crisp linen sheets. My side was painful and stiff, and when I bent down to look, I saw black stitches piecing me together. There were also stitches on my mouth, and put together with my cast on my arm from earlier, and the IV drip on my left hand, I probably looked positively horrendous.

"I look terrible," I moaned to myself.

"I concur," said a voice behind me, "with that assessment."

Fang was leaning on a wall, slightly behind the door, watching me. I bit in a gasp of surprise at his sudden appearance and a sigh of relief that it wasn't an Eraser at the same time.

"Hi," I managed. Every word hurt. The stitches on the side of my mouth stretched and pulled with every movement. I couldn't even imagine what smiling would feel like.

"Did I have a cut here?" I asked, fingering the thread. "'Cos I don't remember getting one." I sat up in bed.

"You had to have a lot of surgery," Fang said, loping closer. "A dentist came in, apparently."

"Apparently?" I asked.

"This was yesterday." He shrugged. "They had to put you under. You fought them." He allowed a grimace to slip past his smooth, cool mask.

"I did?" I asked. I had no memory of it.

"Let's just say that if you'd fought like that with me, you wouldn't be here." Guilt sprinted across his high cheekbones. He sat down on the ironed sheets. "I'm really sorry about that, by the way."

"It's fine," I shrugged. "I've been through worse." A shudder passed through me, and for a second I was lost in memories about what, exactly, had been worse.

"I can't imagine what it would be like to be in there for fourteen years," he said. He locked eyes with me, and I searched my – his – face for emotion. Oh, jeez, this was confusing.

"Be grateful," I told him, meeting his eyes. I ducked my head a bit, but stayed looking at him. "Girls honestly don't have it easy in there."

His gaze intensified. "How do you mean?" he asked softly. "Max never said anything."

"You guys left too soon," I said. I blushed a little bit, and looked down. "Just…a lot of tests about whether we would…give live birth or lay eggs like birds." There. I said it. Fang, you better be careful what you wish for.

Fang never looked away. I could feel his dark gaze burning into the top of my head. "What were the results?" he asked me.

I snapped up. "Why? Thinking about starting your own little flock with Maxie-poo?"

He shrugged. "Just curious, since you brought it up. Might be interesting to know. I could pass it on." He paused. "Actually, it's not like Max wants any kids. So forget it."

"You guys came at just the right time," I said. "The whitecoats wanted to experiment a bit further. They were going to…" I gulped, then came straight out with it: "They were going to make me pregnant and then find out for sure."

Horror flashed across his face like lightning. "Then we better make sure you don't go back there," he said, and I could feel him preparing for another argument. I sighed internally.

"Don't even start," I said, holding up my hand.

"Holly –"

"No, Fang. I'm not joining you and the Flock. I'm not meeting Max, I'm not living in that cozy little house, I'm not getting attacked by Erasers every other hour, I'm not getting slobbered up by Total every day –"

Fang held up his hand. "Wait. You know Total?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "Yeah. I was his across-the-street neighbor for years. He's a real pest, isn't he? Never stops whining, does he? Likes his coffee black? Yeah, that's him." I scratched around the IV.

"He talked before?"

I gave him a sideways glance. "Well, yeah. You don't get that impeccable vocabulary in just a day." Unfortunately.

He snorted. "Huh. Wonder why…"

"He didn't trust you at first," I explained. "He wanted to make sure. Although I bet he swallowed that little blond girl, Angel or whatever, hook, line, and sinker. She looked like the melt-in-your-mouth type."

"Are you hungry?" Fang asked, giving me a crosswise glance.

"Why?" I asked him, giving the drip another good scratch. It felt weird in my hand.

"You made three references to food in the past thirty seconds."

"Well, yeah, of course I'm hungry," I said, "I'm a winged chick."

"A winged chick," he mused. Then he stood so fast that I was afraid he'd knock over the EKG (which was fortunately not in use).

"What?" I asked him.

He'd gone pale. "I need to get out of here," he muttered, and bolted.

"Fang-?" I yelled after him. A tired-looking doctor came in, rubbing his eyes blearily.

"Ah," he said. "Miss Rose."

Rose? I thought, but then realized that Fang must have made up a name for me.

"Your brother Nick was in here just now. Did he tell you the news?"

"What news?" I said, rubbing my eyes.

"You had some broken ribs. We had to do a surgery on your chest to place them, because they were out of line and would have healed crookedly. We also had to do a surgery on your mouth. And we're glad to tell you that you'll be able to get the cast off your arm tomorrow."

I tried to stand, but he gently pushed me back down. "Be careful," he told me. "You need to rest up."

"Fine," I grumbled.

His expression drooped. "Miss Rose," he said, "I'm about to give you some bad news. Please prepare yourself."

I looked into his eyes. Were they going to give me back to the whitecoats? Did I have to go back into surgery? Had the word chocolate lost meaning in this dimension?

"You seem to have miscarried."

I am officially in love with peanut butter lollipops and the song Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri. Now everyone tell me your favorite…movie. I need 5 movies before I update. The best one will win a shout-out in the next chapter.

Kisses, Schne