Sorry about not updating yesterday, but I had to write (and am still writing) a huge paper in 12 point font. What a killer!

Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride and she doesn't own me. (There's a first.)

February 5th, 2012

"Oh no you didn't." Iggy snapped and sat on the couch next to me, squeezing my hand. "I'm sure he didn't really mean it Maxie. I must have misheard it." Iggy babbled. "Repeat that, will you Fangles?"

"Dr. Gunther-Hagen is dead." He whispered. "I made up the story so I could be with you, Max."

I'm sure my mouth was hanging open, catching flies. "Really? Are you kidding?" I asked him quietly. This wasn't the Fang I knew. It couldn't be. He would never do something like this...

Fang caught my expression. "Times change, Max. People change, and I guess I changed in the past few months." He whispered hoarsely. "I'm glad I told you. I never meant to hurt you, or anything. Please .. just forgive me."

I turned away and rested my head on Iggy's shoulder. Fang who I've been with all the years before, just wanted to use me. "I don't know if I can." I choked finally. This wasn't usually me to be like this.

"I'm sorry."

"Well, at least I didn't lie! Dylan is really dead. Was that a good idea to kill him?" My voice trailed off. "And all this time you really just wanted to use me? Was it like this in the beginning, Fang, were you like this the whole time? Just wanting me for my reproducing skills?" I let out a long and angry sigh.

"I'm sorry."

After I while, I said quietly, "I'm sorry too. That was uncalled for." Iggy rubbed my back.

Fang shrugged. "No need. It's my fault, really. I'll be on my way out."

"Fang, wait!" I called, reaching my hand out. "The offer about a place to stay is genuine. We have room in the basement." My voice faltered. I couldn't just let him leave if he had no place to stay.

He shook his head. "I'll find someplace to go." He opened the door and smiled slightly. "See you in nineteen years and six months?"

It was my turn to shrug. "Maybe." It wasn't a yes and it wasn't a no, so I still had time to decide.

He was out the door in a flash and I turned to Iggy. "Did I do the right thing?"

He nodded. "You didn't send him away too sad, or angry, you offered him a place to stay, and he thinks you'll be at the cliff in about nineteen years. You did pretty good for a Maxie."

I grinned. "What's that supposed to mean, 'for a Maxie?' Could an Iggy do it better?"

Iggy smiled. "Probably. But the kids are going to be so disappointed that they missed Ol Fangles. They did all this cleaning, too!"

"Well," I chuckled. "They'll see him a nineteen years, right?"

"And six months, Max, don't get too ahead of yourself."