A/N: Since I'm spoiling you (two posts in one weekend), I hope to hear from you! Thank you for reading.

Disclaimer: James Patterson owns the characters and any recognizable canon info.

M

I wake up to the sun, since Fang never really likes to close his blinds. The bright morning rays seems to shine through at just the right angle to blind me the moment I open my eyes. I begrudgingly pull my wings in against my back, flipping over to turn my back against Fang and get away from the brightness. I open my eyes once I've settled, wiggling back against him a bit to get some of his warmth. His arm curls around my waist slowly as I find the green glare of his digital alarm clock.

"It's only eight," I grumble, rubbing my face against the pillow.

"What do you mean, only?" His lips land on my shoulder and kiss there gently, through my shirt, then I feel them down my arm. The moment his lips are on my skin, right below my sleeve, chills run over my skin. The flesh under his lips turns to goosebumps. He breathes a chuckle and smooths his warm hand down my arm.

I flip onto my back carefully, adjusting my left wing as it got folded under me at an awkward angle. Fang leans himself up on one arm, looking at me thoughtfully.

"What?"

His expression doesn't change, he just gazes into my eyes like he's looking for something. I frown a little, pressing my thumb hard into the lines between his eyebrows. He pushes my hand away, leaning down to kiss me quickly. He pushes his blanket aside and swings his feet to the ground, brushing a hand through his hair and letting his wings expand to fill the room. This immediately casts me into a deep, dark shadow behind his wings.

"Ooh, really blocking the sun now. Please, don't move," I say happily, snuggling back into the pillow.

"The others are up," Fang says, turning to look at me. "Not sure about Nudge." He stretches his arms up and his wings swing back a bit, one hovering over my face. I close the one eye now susceptible to the insistent sunshine and ignore his clear insinuation that we should already be up.

He stands, nabs a shirt from the chair at his desk and pulls it on, efficiently ruining my coverage from the brightness of the morning. I groan and push myself up into a sitting position, pulling my wings out and rolling my shoulders back.

I realize suddenly we never looked at the details for his internship the night before. I'd gone upstairs to find him already getting in bed, and we'd gone to sleep not long after.

"So, next week?" I say, pushing away the blankets and climbing out of the warmth of Fang's bed. He turns to me, pulling his wings from the slits in his shirt.

"I know," he says. That's all he says. The I'm sorry is implied by his tone and the look on his face. I'm suddenly really glad he decided to give me the bulk of the information last night at the caves, when he was feeling talkative. I raise an eyebrow at him, losing patience fast, and he gestures toward his laptop on his desk.

"It's all on there."

I venture to the desk, plopping myself into the chair and hitting the power button. The dark screen silently whizzes to life. I look at him before typing in the password. As soon as the screen loads, I'm looking at multiple tabs from the state college downtown. His email is pulled up, too. I click on that letter and find his acceptance email from a month ago.

"I didn't know if I even wanted to do it," he says finally, seeing the screen. "You aren't the only one who is afraid to split up."

I chew my cheek. He's right, he's always been adamant about staying together, just like me. It was hard for Fang to deal with Nudge going to high school, leaving the three youngest family members relatively vulnerable and without back up, attending two separate schools. It sounds ridiculous now, to still think the way we did on the run. We hadn't seen a threat in ages, and our fame – especially through the shows – kept us well-known enough that any threat against us would have a difficult time going unnoticed. We live a different kind of life now, and though it has been that way a while…it's hard to unlearn our instincts.

He's scared, and yet he still wants this. Maybe it's because he's gone through the same mental examination of the situation that I did. We're safe, safer than we've ever been. Our lives have changed, but we will never move on if we don't start doing normal things.

And the case. How impossible it seems to get through this. Living together but never discussing anything I learn about us or our past. Not that I think him moving out temporarily would ever have been a sane solution, but…

"We'll have to tell the kids. I want to get you some alarms for your apartment," I say, scrolling through the acceptance email again. "Says here you need to send in your information and sign the acceptance letter before Monday."

"Max."

I look up at him. "Don't you want to do it?"

He looks torn. I'm surprised he's got his guard down about this. It makes me think he really needs my help here. He doesn't trust himself to make the right decision. He's like me in a lot of ways when it comes to our family; the idea of choosing something for himself that may negatively impact the dynamic or safety of the Flock…it's unfathomable. It's why I've continued living in the limelight for money for so long. It's easy, we can do it together, and it's flying. It's all we've ever known.

When Fang asked me about careers a month ago, I had been filled with dread. How do I get comfortable with the idea that my whole life was a lie, there is nothing to save the world from? There is nothing but Jeb's crazy, and now we all must grow up and get jobs and try to live a "normal" life.

"What if this is a mistake?" he says lowly. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms and looking at me. "What if this is what they're waiting for?"

"But who?" I ask. "We haven't seen a threat in years! Jeb is in prison."

Fang rolls his eyes. "This web is way bigger than us and Jeb."

"I realize that," I say firmly, slightly annoyed. "Fang, we are not living the same life we did when we were fourteen."

"But it's not over."

I throw my hands up, leaning back in his desk chair with a humph. "It may never be over. There will always be evil people who want to capitalize off us, use us or hurt us. What do you suggest, live in a bunker?"

"That's an option."

I try not to laugh at his deadpan response. His eyes glint at me, and I know he's not really getting worked up or paranoid about any impending threat, but I understand where he's coming from. For us, maybe forever, there is a feeling of impending doom. The possibility that our safety will be ripped away once again, just like so many times before.

"We need therapy," I say, standing up and moving toward him. I'm joking, although I know Ella would be thrilled to hear me admit it (considering she's tried to convince us as a group to go to therapy multiple times).

"You first," he retorts, putting his arms around me. We're quiet, standing there holding each other for a moment.

"A two-hour flight is not bad," I say finally, as an offering.

"I can be here every weekend," he says quietly.

I smile into his chest, nodding, trying to convince myself that this is the only decision that makes sense. The other option is rooted in fear. It makes no sense to live that way. Right?

"Max!"

I frown, looking up at him. It's Iggy. I'm sure he's itching to get in there and begin our work. I wish he'd let us get through the weekend.

"I think we need to tell everyone, considering you only have a week left before it starts," I reason. He gives me a look, like, You're not being at all helpful.

I make my way downstairs, finding Iggy standing at the counter, drinking a glass of orange juice. Nudge and Ella are at the kitchen table, talking over half-eaten pancakes. There is a towering stack of pancakes, blueberry and chocolate chip, on the counter. The Gasman is fumbling with the wires of something I do not recognize on the living room floor, the sports channel playing absently over his head.

"Gazzy, no bombs in the house," I warn as I move through the room.

"S'not a bomb," he mutters, not taking his eyes from the wires. I decide to take his word for it.

"Max!" Iggy exclaims. "Finally. We doing this?"

"Should we wait for Angel? Where is she?"

He frowns, looking quite annoyed. "She already started. Imagine my surprise when I found her in the office this morning." I don't say anything, so he says pointedly, "At six."

I look at him, bewildered, which is wasted. I move past him into the hall and peer into the open study to see Angel, sitting with her arms folded over one of the laptops. She looks at me, bored.

"Are we ready?"

"What are you doing?"

Angel gives me a scowl, which she learned so well from all her brothers. "I couldn't sleep, I didn't see the need for all the ceremony, trying to start together and make a big scene."

"Oh, you didn't understand the ceremony?" I say, aghast. "This is not a game, Angel, there could be some really triggering shit in there." I realize that the chatter from the kitchen table has ceased, leaving an awkward silence, so I edge myself into the room and begin to shut the door. I feel a firm block and notice Iggy right behind me. He comes into the room and shuts the door quietly.

"It's not about ceremony, it's about not going through this stuff alone," I say finally, calmly.

Angel smiles. I know what you mean, Max, but we already had to go through this stuff alone once.

"They have a ton of charges against Jeb already. It said in the overall summary that they'd only gone through the first 20% of physical evidence found at the house."

My head is whirling with this information. I had been prepared for an easy morning, definitely eat breakfast, before even thinking about getting in this mindset. I'm frustrated that the both of them seem to be itching to dive in right now. Iggy, I know, is just ready to get something tangible on Jeb. The faster we get through the files, the faster we can bring charges against him.

But it isn't just about that.

"We're supposed to note anything we remember or can corroborate with personal testimony," Angel recites, cheerily ignoring my inner monologue. "I grabbed some notebooks for us, so we can note anything that stands out."

"How far did you get?" I ask warily.

She rolls her eyes. "I was in here for like ten minutes before Iggy caught me. I'd barely gotten the computer turned on." She pats the folder with the first summary from the FBI. "I did glance through this, though. Did you know that Gazzy can actually mimic any sound on Earth? According to this, at least. We should have him test it out later with a dog whistle or something at the park. They tried to give us all kinds of skills. Max, have you ever been able to have premonitions?"

I throw my hands up, getting overwhelmed. "No. I am going to brush my teeth, grab some pancakes, and then we can talk about starting." I shoot a look at Iggy. "What about Ella? You guys just want to hole up in here while she's visiting?"

"Ella is staying another night. I convinced her last night."

I just stare at him.

Angel mutters, "I'm sure you did."

He starts to blush in the silence, turning red up to his ears. "Shut up, she wanted to stay. I gave her an update on the case, told her we'd be busy with the evidence. She didn't want to be a burden…I just told her we would love it if—you know, I don't have to explain myself to you."

Angel and I let him have a moment longer of uninterrupted, painful silence before both letting out a laugh.

"Screw you guys. Let's do this after lunch, I have to clean the kitchen."

Angel groans. She's still in her plaid pajamas, hair poufy and curly around her face. "We're just going to push it off forever?"

"Tonight," I tell her. At her pressuring gaze, I add, "For sure. Where's Val?"

"She left for a flight to San Diego. Woman is crazy booked with meetings." Iggy shrugs. "She told me to tell you she'd call when she gets in."

"Okay. Can we just…enjoy the morning, dive in this evening? Just in case this ruins my day," I mutter.

Angel frowns, but nods, and stands from the chair. "Fine. Happy normal people. We gotta face it sometime."

I frown at the back of her head, following her out of the room. Not sure where she could've picked up an attitude this early in the morning.

Fang's already in the kitchen. He's stacked four pancakes on a plate and was now dousing them in syrup. He looks up at us as we walk down the hall.

"Hey! I have news," he says relatively loudly, capping the syrup and setting it on the counter. Silence falls, the only noise is the whatever sports station Gazzy has playing on the TV. His face is guarded, but in my opinion, he's content with his choice. I smile gently at him and he sees me. The moment his eyes lock with mine I know he's about to make this dramatic for the fun of it. I roll my eyes at him, already laughing.

"It's time I go off on my own, guys. I'm moving out!"

Dead silence.

"Wait, what?" Nudge says, having been pulled from her conversation with Ella by his random outburst of independence.

Angel rolls her eyes. "We all know that's not happening," she says to him not kindly. Fang shrugs.

"Moving out next week. To the city." His eyes flicker to mine with mischief. "I want to be where the night life is."

I roll my eyes. Still chuckling, I look over to see Iggy making an absolutely ridiculous face of nonbelief. I let out another good laugh at his face, and Fang finally begins to explain what's actually happening.

Very quickly, I realize that everyone is still relatively quiet.

"Next week?" Nudge repeats, sounding despondent.

"Where did this come from?" Iggy exclaims, waving his hand at Fang. He doesn't sound angry, maybe just shocked.

Fang looks around, reading the reactions. I step forward to be able to see the girls in the dining room, feeling concerned with how this is going. I was expecting...

I don't know what I had been expecting.

"It was a hard decision," Fang finally says, this time quietly and quite serious. "I know it feels wrong—"

"And dangerous!" Iggy says.

I shake my head, looking around. "We are safe."

"We actually have no idea if that's true," Iggy retorts back in the same tone. I scowl at him, looking to Fang. He's completely guarded now, face expressing nothing. He leans forward against the kitchen counter, both hands on the surface.

"I'm happy for you, I just can't believe it's so soon!" Nudge says finally, getting up to go to him at the counter. He reaches for one of his hands, patting it. "You have to do it. Show Max that one of us can leave and come back alive, and I may just get to go out of state for school."

None of that is whispered, and she glances between Fang and I as she speaks. I roll my eyes, getting tired of the Saturday morning bullshit, and angry I haven't even eaten anything yet.

"Does anyone have an actual, confirmed objection to this?" I challenge authoritatively.

Fang sighs. "Or questions?"

The room erupts in questions, mostly excited. Iggy frowns, his fingers playing with the zipper on his jacket. I put my hand on his arm and he stops.

"This feels wrong, Max."

"I know," I say quietly. I pause. "You told me, Ig. We have to let it go. We have to move on, and that means help ourselves believe we aren't being hunted."

Iggy doesn't miss a beat before saying, "What if we are being hunted?"

I don't have a better answer for him than a reluctant, "We have no reason to think that."

He makes an incredulous face at me before walking past me into the kitchen, asking over the barrage of questions for Fang, "Is nine o'clock too early for a drink?"