A/N: Appreciate you all. Forgive any typos.
Side note—you guys are going to hate where this is going but just… trust me.
Disclaimer: James Patterson owns the characters and any recognizable canon info.
M
By the time dinner is done, Ella has nearly finished the rest of that bottle herself, giggly and absolutely unable to get out a sentence without a hiccup. I'm clearing plates, chuckling to myself as Nudge and Iggy care for her at the kitchen island with heavy exasperation.
"Okay, girl, you need to take a few deep breaths. Those hiccups might make you sick if you keep going," Nudge warns, a hand gently on Ella's back. Ella swats at her arm gently.
"I'm not drunk," she says, still chuckling giddily. She takes Nudge's advice and pulls in a quick breath, letting it out after a beat. She sits still for a minute and then –
Hiccup!
Nudge and Iggy huff simultaneously, and as Ella erupts into tipsy giggles again Iggy feels around and picks up the wine bottle. His facial expression goes from frustrated to appalled.
"Nudge! This is almost gone! Why didn't you stop her!"
Nudge looks at me with her mouth wide open in shock. I try to muster my grin as I lower the dishes into the sink, staying silent. Fang, who's already at the sink, washing, catches my glance and I finally let it crack. He smirks back at me as he starts rinsing the dishes. Nudge finally says hurriedly, "She's normal, I figured she knew how much she can handle!"
"I'm not a drunk person!" Ella insists. "Also, I had some of Max's. It's fine, I've been worse guys, seriously," she mumbles, sliding off her bar stool. "I'm going pee."
Iggy scrunches his nose, turning the wine bottle upside down over the sink and getting the last drops out. He spins to drop the bottle in the trash and says to Nudge and I, "Who knew Ella would be the one to get sloppy. I figured Angel."
"I'm sure it's just part of her college experience," I say, still grinning.
"Is she sleeping in your room?" Nudge says abruptly, pointing to me. "Since you barely ever sleep in there anyways." She says it pointedly.
Fang elbows me and I curse him in my head, meanwhile saying, "Fair, and yes – I already put her stuff there."
She grins. "Good, I don't want to deal with those hiccups. Drunk or not."
Ella comes back down the hall but doesn't join us, instead going into the living room to plop down on one of the couches heavily. Everyone in the kitchen shares a glance, and for one quiet moment we thought we were in the clear.
Hiccup!
Iggy drags his hand down his face. He mutters, "Good God."
He turns and heads into the living room after her. I look at Fang again, reaching to help him load the dishwasher. Fang shuts the water off when we're done, drying his hands and turning to me. He looks at me with a measured gaze, hesitating.
"What?" I get the feeling something is wrong for some reason, and I brace myself. Is he still upset? Did I go too far? Am I just being daft, and he's frustrated with me for not understanding his side?
I take a breath. He's still just looking at me. Usually by now he's interrupted my inner pessimistic monologue. I steel myself to listen and be supportive. We need to support each other, and I know he's always been there for me—regardless of reason or rationality.
He finally just shakes his head, lips curling just a little. "Nothing." He glances back at the windows, outside where the sun is just setting. "Wanna get out of here?"
I am itching to stretch my wings. Nudge has joined Ella and Iggy in the living room, the three of them engaged in an intense discussion about the show they have on. Angel is upstairs working on an essay (she'd taken another half glass of wine with her, so I am sure that is going wonderfully) and Gazzy had excused himself for the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago. I make a mental note not to use the upstairs bathroom any time in the near future.
"Sure, let me grab my coat."
When we finally make our way outside, Fang wastes no time. He smacks a kiss on my hair and moves ahead of me, unfurling his wings and sprinting into the yard. I don't even follow. I just watch. His wings reach their full extension and he jumps, pushing down hard, black feathers glinting in the last rays of sunlight shining over the tree line. Once he's in the air he's quick to rise, his huge wingspan helping him climb way high above me with four or five hard and powerful strokes. I ready myself to do the same, wiggling my feathers out of the slits of my coat as I take off, running into the grass.
When I'm up at his level, again he turns and without a word begins flying east. I follow him, giving him his space, still feeling that sense that something is off. Is he going to break down? Is he going to decide he wants to help with the case?
Stop guessing, I tell myself deliberately. It never helps and you are rarely right.
We're nearing the mountains, and at this point I think I know where we're going. One of the many spots we've found in this area, a small outcropping perfectly tucked away. I could barely spot it at night, even fifty feet out. Once you land, there is a long, open-mouth outcropping. Not totally a cave, because it doesn't go very deep, but still covered from the elements and with a beautiful view of the canyon.
He swoops toward the entrance, which I can just now see. I follow him exactly, swooping down and carefully curving my wings to help keep me from landing forward on my face in the rocks. My feet touch the rock and I jog to a quick stop next to him, my wings brushing his cool feathers as I pull them closer to my body. Not that we need to save any space, considering the size of the outcropping – more for warmth. The wind is active and much harsher up here.
I move further in, hopping up to sit on one of the many large rocks. There's enough room on the surface of this slab for the entire Flock, if necessary. I keep my wings out, but not stretched, and scoot over so Fang can join me. From here we have an unobscured view of the last sliver of sunset, quickly disappearing below the horizon before our eyes.
"Pretty," I say softly, looking out at the last stretch of deep orange and red in the sky, surrounded by a dark, smothering blue. There's not a cloud in sight, and many stars are already visible overhead. He hums in agreement next to me, otherwise silent.
"I think Angel is going to need you to proofread her essay, considering she's drinking and writing it," I add with a laugh. Fang smirks. Still silent.
His fingers dance on mine. I roll my shoulders and sigh, looking at him. He's looking at me.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," he says softly. "Earlier."
I chew the inside of my cheek, watching him. Earlier, as in when I accused him of running away and caused a fallout.
"I'm—"
"It's okay," he says quickly. "I know. And I don't want you to think that this is related to that." He levels with me, locking his eyes on mine. "At all."
My heart is thumping. I start to get a little nervous, because he seems so cautious and hesitant. And he's serious—one hundred percent.
"Fang, what's wrong?"
"Do you remember, before all of this, when we were talking about what we wanted to do?"
He means career-wise. I do remember. A month ago we had really dove into the idea. He wanted to go to school, because he wanted to continue writing and reporting. I remember I had told him he wouldn't need college because he was already famous, as was his blog. His blog had a regular column in a few online papers. It wasn't about filling his resume, though – he wanted to learn. I hadn't had a single idea what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be. I still don't.
"Yeah," I say, grabbing his moving fingers and twining them with mine. "It's okay, what is going on?"
He looks over at me, and then barks a laugh, looking out over the canyon and squeezing my fingers. "You are going to freak out."
My eyes widen. I absolutely hate this slow reveal thing he's doing, and he knows it. I'm not one to tease with big news. He's still squeezing my fingers.
"I got accepted into a paid internship, but it's five days a week and two hours away."
I sigh, relieved. "Oh, well that's not that bad—"
"Two hours flying," he clarifies, to which I'm silent. He's expecting something; maybe an explosion, maybe a panic attack, maybe for me to just outright deny him from going. All of which would've been a reasonable response for me. Years ago.
All of that still runs through my mind – the anger, the panic, the feeling that this is not safe, and we cannot split up. This feeling seems like it was programmed into my being; the Flock cannot sustain if the Flock splits up. It's a gut reaction that is so insanely strong, stomach-turning; it tells me any plan that involves being separated leaves us vulnerable. In danger.
But…what danger? How long can I protect the Flock from danger that is in my head, hiding in my trauma and unresolved questions? Iggy was right when he said crazy people don't need a reason. It hurts to know that everything we went through quite possibly had no bigger picture to begin with, but for all we know, that's the truth. And if that is the truth, that makes it even easier to move on with the rest of our lives. Take control and make choices that make us happy.
Like this job, for Fang.
Nudge is a blink away from college. How will I ever be able to let her go off to the school of her choice and live alone, like Ella, in a huge campus full of strangers and unknown threats? How will I ever be able to let go if I don't start loosening my grip?
Every inch of me is screaming, and I am fully aware that Fang is still patiently waiting for my reaction. I remind myself the promise I made before we got in the air tonight: listen and be supportive.
Even though my body can't turn off my fight or flight responses, I know now that our lives are different. If I can't ever stop hovering, I will tear us apart.
As all this flies through my mind, Fang is still holding my hand. Eventually, I croak, "What's the job?"
"Social media manager for the state college," he says steadily. "Provided housing. There are about five intern positions, they provide campus apartments for the duration of the internship if you aren't local."
I nod slowly, still processing, trying to keep an open mind but barely hanging on by my fingertips. "How long would it be?"
"Three months," he says, still watching my face closely. "The only reason I'm considering it is because it segues into an immediate job opening, which can be remote."
I look at him, realizing what that means. Three months away, and then he'd have a job. Working from home. Only three months away.
He continues, because I haven't said anything. "They mostly call it an internship because they want me to learn from the current manager. Training in person."
I nod, squeezing his fingers. "Do you have to have a roommate?"
He shakes his head. "Studio apartment. I think there's a reason they offer them as free housing," he says, looking out at the now-dark sky. I chuckle, leaning against him.
"This scares the shit out of me," I say honestly, to which he responds with his own chuckle.
"I'm surprised you're still sitting here," he says, slipping his hand around to rest on my waist.
"Will you show me the details, when we get home?" I ask.
He looks down at me, face absolutely painted in surprise. "I can show you, sure. But, Max… I don't have to do it."
I know what he's doing. This is what Iggy mentioned, how Fang makes most of his decisions around how it will affect me or the Flock. He's cautious and thoughtful and I know for sure that this isn't impulsive. So why is my stomach still flipping?
"If you think about it," I say softly, hoping I don't regret it, "this might help us manage the case."
He nods, and says a bit sheepishly, "I kind of thought that, too," he says. "It'll be a good distraction for me."
He kisses my head, pulling me with both arms to lean on him. "I love you."
It's really soft, barely audible, whispered into my hair. Not that I'm surprised to hear it, but there is a tenderness to his voice. He's relieved that this conversation went this way. I can't help but feel like I'm again sacrificing my own comfort and safety. I try to tell myself that's not what this is.
I want Fang to have a life he loves. I want him to follow all his dreams, I want that for the entire Flock. I want to never stand in the way of this kind of stuff. And yet…
"Tell me we're going to make this work," I whisper back. "Tell me I have no reason to worry."
"Even if I told you that, you would worry," he says.
I don't say anything. His arms are completely around me, his fingers under my coat and pressed against my back, tickling under my t-shirt. My knee is bouncing, I just realized. He moves our entwined hands to rest on the bouncing knee and I will myself to be still.
"Hey, we made it through the dangerous stuff," he says confidently. "No matter what, we make it out okay."
I smile, sighing, looking out at the stars. I lay my head on his shoulder and offer a quiet, "Thank you."
We stay for a while longer, lying there and listening to the night, enjoying the peace and quiet together. I try to keep my mind from worrying and manage to relax into him. I find myself worrying about how soon I would lose these nighttime flights, these cave adventures.
When we finally get back home, I stand on the porch, stretching my wings before going in. Fang steps toward the door.
"Sleeping with me tonight?"
I roll my eyes, pushing back my shoulders and stretching my wings till I'm satisfied. "Yes. Hiccups or not, Ella snores like a truck."
He nods. "See you up there."
"Okay," I say, turning to stare out toward the end of the yard, still stretching. When I'm finally feeling relaxed, I turn to head inside. I go through my normal routine with the security system. After it fully engages, I flip the manual lock on the door and turn around to find myself face to face with Angel.
"He told you about the internship," she says, smiling knowingly. "He's happy."
I look toward the stairs, nodding. "I know."
Angel is still smiling. "It'll be okay."
I sigh. "I know," I say again. I look around. The living room is dark, so is the kitchen. Angel has a bottle of water in her hand, pajamas on. I hadn't looked at the time in a while and I realize it's nearly ten o'clock. "When did you find out about it?"
She shrugs. "He got the acceptance to the program last month. His deadline is next Monday. It starts next week, I was wondering when he would tell you." She gives me a look. "He was worried about you. I'm glad it went well."
She leaves me with that, and all my feelings, turning toward the stairs with a soft and airy, "Goodnight, Max."
Next week.
I wonder if she knew Fang hadn't mentioned that yet. I swallow, looking up the stairs, realizing maybe for the first time that this is happening. I would be an absolute villain to hold him back, and I never want Fang – or any of them – to resent me for being overprotective.
With one last glance at the alarm system, I flip the dining room lights off, plunging the lower level of the house into darkness. I head upstairs, repeating the same line over and over to myself.
No matter what, we make it out okay.