There's only two chapters and a epilogue after this! It seems like just yesterday that I was beginning to write Becoming You and Me. But that was actually six months ago.
But guys, whether you've been reading that whole time or just recently found this story or the trilogy, I want to thank all of you so much for making this my most successful fan fiction project ever. It's been a blast, and even though my interest in Maximum Ride died out sometime while I was writing Always You and Me, it's sort of come back since I decided to finish this trilogy. And so-- and I'm not making any promises, but I would say this is a legitimate possibility-- I may have another story in the works. Not for this trilogy, but it is Maximum Ride.
Anyway, thanks again, and enjoy!
I was gonna die, I was gonna die. For the love of Pete, I was gonna die.
I didn't exactly know what was going on. I remembered Fang helping me to the car and driving quickly through the Tucson streets, his cell phone clamped to one ear, first calling my mom and then the flock. Whenever we were at a stop light, he would take his hand off the steering wheel and squeeze mine over the console.
After we got to the hospital, things got blurry. I was wheeled down the hall in a wheelchair and helped into a bed. Doctors and nurses were bustling around, yelling out orders, hooking me up to stuff. The only things I was sure of were the pain and Fang, standing at my side, massaging one of my hands between both of his.
"I want more drugs!" I barked.
"You can't have any more for a while," Fang said apologetically.
"I don't care! Give me some!"
Now he ignored me, turning to say something to Dr. Gordon at the foot of my bed, and I glared at the back of his head. If he felt my eyes on him, he didn't acknowledge it. "Max," he said a second later, "I'm gonna go talk to the doctor. Be right back."
"No," I growled, tightening my grip on his hand. If I wasn't getting more medicine, I at least needed someone to stand beside me. "Don't go anywhere."
"Just for a second," Fang said, prying my fingers away from his. "I promise I'll be back." He disappeared from my side as another contraction came, and I gritted my teeth. Where did he go? I freaking needed him here!
After what seemed like forever but, in reality, was probably only a few minutes, Fang leaned over me again, moving sweaty strands of hair away from my face. "They can't delay a preterm delivery," he said gently as I breathed harder and harder. "You're in labor."
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Gracie and Devin crossed the Arizona state line in the dark. They had found a drug store to get some bandages for Devin's wing, then found a low-profile, mostly empty burger joint where they could eat (the whitecoats had taken Devin's pack, but not the money that was in his pockets) and rest up before making the flight home. Once they'd crossed the state line, it would take another hour and a half for Devin to get home, but Gracie had her super speed, so the two locked hands and flew toward Tucson at over two hundred miles an hour.
As their neighborhood came into sight and they prepared to coast into the woods a couple blocks from their house, Gracie let go of Devin and said, "I can't wait to see Momma and Daddy. They're not mad, right? They believed me?"
"'Course they did," he told her as they passed through the tree tops and touched down on the grass.
"How far along is Mom now? Like, seven months?" She started skipping happily toward the clearing, heading for the sidewalk.
"Something like that." Devin nodded and brushed his bangs down to cover his eyes, since his hat wasn't there to do it for him. He was trying to hide his face so she wouldn't see how ecstatically happy he was to be back here. They would go home, see Mom and Dad, have dinner together, and go to bed full and happy, their lives normal once again.
There was one small part of him, though, that reminded him this his normal life included being a loner, no one to share his thoughts with. It had never bothered him this much before; in fact, he preferred it this way. But now that he'd had the experience of talking to someone who really understood, he wanted it back. He wanted the Voice back.
"I'm so excited to have a little sister," Gracie said, bringing him back to the here and now. "Too bad we'll be out of the house when they're only four. But still, I can just see it: she'll be thirteen and I'll be twenty-seven but we'll still be so close, she'll call me with all her boy problems."
"Yeah," Devin said, thinking about what he would say to Blake when they talked on the phone. A teenage Blake probably wouldn't want to call him, who'd barely ever spoken to a girl, much less asked one out, for girl advice.
Gracie kept talking as they walked home, but Devin didn't join in except to nod at the appropriate intervals. The last month had felt like three years. He was worn out and exhausted and kind of depressed. A hot dinner and warm bed sounded just about perfect.
"All the lights are out," Gracie said, puzzled, as they turned onto their street. "And the car's gone."
"Maybe they went out." Devin shrugged.
"They don't go out much, though," she said, walking a little quicker. "And it looks kind of late."
They sped up to a light jog. By the time they came up to the house, Devin was feeling some of that anxiety himself. It was awfully dark, and something felt… off.
They hurried up the steps, and Gracie didn't even try knocking before grabbing the spare key from underneath the welcome mat and using it to open the door.
"Mom?" she called, stepping into the dark foyer with Devin right behind her. The light from the street allowed them to see the outlines of the pictures hanging on the wall. "Daddy?"
"I don't know where they would be," Devin said, sounding totally cool and collected despite the panic slowly mounting inside him.
There was a sigh that he assumed came from Gracie, but as he turned to reassure her, he heard a different voice. Well, looks like you need me. So I'm back.
Devin felt immensely relieved, which he knew was mildly crazy. Whenever his mom talked about the Voice, she talked about how annoying it was, but his had given him a lot of comfort during those hard days at the School. You know where our parents are?
At the hospital.
Devin couldn't help taking in a sharp breath. Gracie looked at him quizzically, and he grabbed her wrist. "They're at the hospital," he said. "The Voice said."
"Oh my gosh, is something wrong with the babies?" Gracie asked frantically, rushing back outside and unfurling her wings, not thinking about who might see them. They took off, and Devin repeated her question to the Voice, but there was no response.
As they headed toward the hospital, Devin inwardly sighed. This was a time when he wished the Voice would decide he needed her.
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Fang walked out of the delivery room to the waiting room outside after being ordered by Max to "get the hell out." At first, he'd ignored her, but when he tried to kiss her on the forehead, she pushed his face away. So here he was, walking to an empty chair in the corner, hearing her screams and wanting nothing more than to take her pain away. It'd been more than seven hours, and this was the first time he'd left that room.
With a sigh, he dropped down into the chair and looked around. Dr. Martinez, Ella, Iggy and Angel had gone down to the cafeteria to eat about ten minutes earlier, and they weren't back yet. The people around him were all with others; he was the only loner. And, from the looks of it, the only dad-to-be.
Fang looked into his lap. All he wanted right now was to be with Max, but if she was moody while not pregnant, then frankly, he should have expected to be kicked out of the delivery room after one hour, not seven.
Another of her familiar cries pierced his ears, and he looked at his lap, clenching his fists in frustration. When he saw his hands, he paused and stared at them, and then, slowly, unfurled his fingers so he could fold his hands. If he was going to be baptized, then now was as good a time as any to start praying.
"Dear God," Fang mumbled under his breath, feeling kind of dumb-- was this the right way to do it? It wasn't like he'd had a lot of religious training. At this moment, though, it was the only thing he knew to do, so he kept going. "Please let Max be okay. And please let our kids be born healthy." He bit his lip. "And please bring Gracie and Devin home safely. Amen."
He stayed in that position, his eyes half open, fingers intertwined, some black hair falling in his face, for a long moment, letting the words sink in. And then, just as he began to look up again, he heard a familiar call of, "Daddy!" coming from a little ways down the hall.
Part of Fang's prayer was already being answered.
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Gracie ran into her father's embrace, squealing with joy. They hadn't parted on the best of notes, but that all seemed forgotten as he squeezed her hard and kissed the top of her head. She willed herself not to cry, but the moment was too emotional not to shed a tear or two.
Daddy gently pulled away and smiled at her, touching her cheek with the backs of his fingers, before moving over to give Devin a one-armed hug. She could have sworn she saw tears shining in his own eyes, but decided it was just the reflection of the light, since Daddy never cried.
"Is Momma having the babies?" Gracie asked, glancing at the closed door of the delivery room.
Daddy nodded, released Devin, and took his seat again, motioning for them to do the same.
"Why are you out here, then?" she asked, sitting on one side while Devin sat on the other.
He grinned, the grin that, according to Mom, made all the girls' knees buckle. "She kicked me out."
Gracie giggled, wrapping her arms around her dad's and leaning her head against his shoulder. "Sounds like Momma."
"Sure does."
The three of them laughed together, and Gracie breathed in the smell of hospital and newborn baby and her dad. And to think, months ago, that she'd felt like she came second to these smells, this long-awaited night. Until now, she'd failed to see the truth: her parents weren't putting anything above her. They were just making her a part of something special.
Aww. That's all fixed up.
Now to see if the babies survive!
Review, please?