A/N: Happy new year! I love reading your reactions. Please keep coming back and please keep reviewing.

You get a long chapter because I don't know how to end things.

I'm rushing, so forgive any typos. I know they're rampant. I write in a hurry and I shouldn't.

Disclaimer: James Patterson owns the Maximum Ride characters and universe. I just play with them.

M

Nudge is back when I get out of the shower. Fang leaves me a note on my pillow that says, Everyone is home now, we're all on the same page. Come down when you're ready. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the morning has disappeared into the weirdness and it's already almost one, according to my alarm clock.

We're all on the same page. And, judging from the soft noises coming from downstairs, they're still here. I swallow. I hear something happening in kitchen, so it must be lunchtime.

I pull on clothes silently in my room, still avoiding any mirrors for the time being. I keep the lights off to make it easier to avoid my own gaze. Doing any existential stuff right now will only lead to a meltdown and I just, frankly, don't have time for it. I can barely look at myself without questioning myself. Best to avoid eye contact.

Knowing what I know and making a few admitted assumptions based on what I know, I feel pretty confident that Gazzy is a historically successful engineer in the near future. A successful, crazy engineer who seems to have figured out time travel. Future Max definitely made it here.

I gulp.

As long as she made it back to her own time. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

She didn't look…that older than me. If it weren't for the clothes and the hair and maybe a few more scars and marks I didn't immediately notice, she looked like me. Her hair was drastically longer; I never really let my hair get that long.

I don't allow myself to dread about it all being a hallucination any longer. I don't tell myself I'm stupid. I would be stupid if Gazzy had no idea what I was talking about. Maybe, maybe it's a coincidence, but what Gazzy described fit my situation perfectly. There's no way that Gazzy's drawing could be so accurate to my description.

Clones are real, damn it. Who's to say time travel isn't?

The real question is why. Why use it, why come back? What could be so important?

Feeling exhausted, I tumble into my bed, tossing over on my side. I eye the sleeping pills on my bedside table, ones I've used regularly in the past for my insomnia. I reach for them tiredly, nearly knocking them off the table. My door opens a crack as I rattle the bottle quietly, trying to get it open.

"You can't take those, Max," Fang says in a hushed whisper. He reaches me and yanks the bottle from my hands, giving me a stern look. "Don't worry, I gave you the good stuff earlier."

"Okay," I mumble, rolling over and squeezing my eyes shut hard. "I just want to sleep. Can't be here right now." I tap my temple meaningfully.

He sits on the side of my bed. "Are you okay?"

I shrug hopelessly, not facing him, not even trying to. I hate this question.

"Who knows?"

"Max," he huffs, putting a hand on my leg gently. "You're scaring me. Please talk to me."

I have to. I don't want to—I don't want to sound crazy; I don't want to sound pathetic. I don't want Fang to decide the only sane course of action is to admit me to the fucking mental hospital. But I can't sit on this discovery. I can't deal with any of this alone.

"Okay, so, I'm a-a clone. I…I don't know what to say to you about that, yet," I say, rolling over to look at him over my shoulder. He gazes back at me openly, softly. He nods, so I continue.

"I was in the mountains today and I…I'm pretty sure Gazzy invents time travel one day," I say finally, rolling my eyes but looking at him earnestly. "I know. But…I saw myself today. With that same device Gaz drew."

Fang just stares at me, no expression.

"Fang, I swear," I say quietly.

He licks his lips, looking out my window and then down back at me. "Get some rest. We can talk later."

I groan. He thinks I'm crazy. In shock. Doped up.

Naturally.

"Fang."

"If you need me, I can stay. Lay with you."

It surprises me he offers. Honestly, it does. I can't believe it does. Any other time, it would've been a no-brainer. But now I barely want to be around myself and I can't stand but feel guilty and awful with him looking at me like this. The look he gives me is so genuine, so caring. He doesn't understand why I'm even hesitating.

I can't help it. It burst out of me. "Doesn't it feel wrong?"

He looks at me, startled. Confused at what I'm talking about.

I elaborate, "Being with me, being…around me? Knowing what I am?"

Fang's face falls into a disappointed scowl. He leans over me, face coming close to mine, his midsection bending over my side to get so close.

"What are you, Max?" he challenges lowly.

I say nothing.

He sighs. "Max?"

He's upset. Upset that I would even try to pretend that what we have isn't ours or isn't real. Upset I am trying to shut him out. Upset that I would let anything break us. But it's not breaking us so much as it's breaking me.

I have a chance to say something to comfort him, or correct him, but I don't. I just don't even respond.

"I'll go," he says finally, slipping his hand away and getting up. "I'll check on you later."

"Goodnight," I mumble, giving up. Hoping I didn't hurt his feelings. I pull my fluffy comforter up to my face and try to think of nothing. I fumble on my bedside table until I find my headphones, turning on some music to distract myself.

I can't even lie here with myself for a moment. I can't let any thoughts through. How am I supposed to overcome this numbing sense of meaninglessness? All the questions?

Facing the others?

I roll over, hugging my other pillow as I think. Even if they accept me, can I accept me? Can I live with this? Can we ever get back to normal?

It just keeps popping into my head, the entire idea of it. What was the point? What was so important that all of this had to happen? Why am I ever here? What am I?

My thoughts are too heavy right now. I know if I keep going down this road, I'll send myself into another panic attack. It's ridiculous to even waste my energy on it—it's like every other anomaly in my life. Not a priority. Can't be, right now.

The Flock is.

But…fuck, I can't go down there. Not yet. Not until I'm sure I can hold it together.

It might be days.

It can't be days.

I have a few hours. I doubt I'll sleep. I'm sure Fang has no intentions of heading back to the city tonight. I rub my forehead, my head still throbbing, feeling the weight of all the repercussions of my many revelations today. Everyone's entire lives, not to mention their quiet Sunday morning, disrupted by my drama.

I'm clearly not built for this, mentally. I absolutely cannot connect the pieces, and it all seems so out of reach that I really don't even know what to tell the others when they ask. How do I tell them? Am I supposed to?

I glance up hopelessly at my clock. It's only been fifteen minutes. I can't sleep, I can't lie here and think in circles. I'm not really sure I can go out there right now and face them. Flying isn't an option because if they notice me gone, they'll flip.

I feel so trapped, suddenly. Like, I have no real options here. I have duties to my family, and I know that. But something dark and heavy is in me now, and it's hard to focus on anything else. How quickly it came over me, this feeling of emptiness. The moment I understood what I'd been trying to piece together for weeks, it filled me head to toe. I still feel incredibly nauseous, unable to really put much energy into anything. Part of the reason I'm still in my bed is I can't seem to convince myself to get up.

This numbing disassociation is something new to me, at least in this capacity. Something is very, very wrong with me. It feels like the numb, detached feeling of the isolation tank Jeb had stuck me in, years before. Just that feeling, all the time.

And I can't really put that on the others.

It's time to pull it together and do what I'm here to do. It seems, based on my visit from myself, that my mission is to stop Jeb. She's from the future and still dealing with this… that is just chilling.

I can't see myself becoming her. A few days ago, sure. A few months ago? Definitely.

Who I am right now? Dealing with this monumental crisis of identity?

How do I ever get through it to be anything other than broken?

It all makes my head hurt more. I lie there for what feels like forever, glancing every so often to see the time roll by slowly. My mind wanders back through what I know, skipping over what I can't handle. I go into a strange auto-pilot, not moving or really doing anything, just lying and breathing and thinking. Trying to calm down. Trying to only think productive thoughts.

It's so fucking hard.

Half the time I find myself staring out the window, cursing myself for coming back so soon. The shock has worn off, the sadness set it, and the rest of the family is waiting for me to come downstairs and talk.

My God, how do I possibly go down there and do that? Just the idea of it brings tears to my eyes, and I ball my fists, feeling stupid. If I can't talk to them, what's the point? I need to know everything is okay. It will help. It better—I'm relying on it to damn near hold me together.

So far, the most popular expression I'd seen from the others since my return was concern. Concern or utter shock. I have no idea what to expect from Nudge. She wanted nothing to do with any of this from the start. I'm sure she'll be less than thrilled to be pulled into it now, for this. This isn't a quick, horrible detail to digest and move on from. This is unbelievable. Life-changing.

I suck in a breath and toss off my covers, trying to pull together all the strength I can muster. I can do this. These are my people. They're here still, and that means something. They want me to talk to them. If anything, they're shocked and worried about me.

I sit up, rubbing my eyes, rolling my neck. The whole time I'm thinking. My main focus right now is holding this Flock together, despite my internal crisis. If they're not about to kick me out, that is. If that's the case, I'm going to have to regroup.

Until then, this is about the Flock. I've disrupted the norm enough as it is, and that's exactly what we never wanted. Now this is all happening, so much at once. I need to be able to contain my shit and help deal with theirs. If I can pull off a miracle, we'll salvage what normal aspects of our lives we're still clinging to.

I reach for a brush and straighten out my hair a bit, glancing quickly at my appearance in the dark to confirm I don't look scary. I don't. I don't think.

I pull on the hoodie I'd stolen from Fang's room earlier in the week, readying myself for whatever lies ahead. I'm going to need to find a better way to keep the dark thoughts away. The idea of my entire life being merely a mistake of fatal proportions is mind-blowing enough, without adding the whole time travel thing. It seems we've gotten barely a peek of whatever is happening around us, and I feel so entirely small and pointless. I suck in a breath, glancing at the clock. It's been almost two hours. I could stay longer…camp out, actually get some rest, maybe…

But, I'm done procrastinating and I know I won't sleep. I grab the knob and throw open the door.

The hall is empty, but the moment I open my door, Nudge's door opens. She hurries out into the hall, wings relaxed and brushing the floor behind her as she comes to me. She engulfs me in a giant hug, squeezing tight. She sighs heavily over my shoulder.

"You smell good," she says finally, and her voice is thick. She smiles at me tentatively, carrying the same concern as everyone else. I manage a smile back but have no idea what to say here, no idea how to proceed.

"I know this is crazy," she says softly, still holding onto me tightly. "But, Max—you're so important to us. To me. And I know you think it's wrong but it's just different—I wish…I wish I knew what to say here."

I nod, reaching to grab her hand. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes widen. "Are you?"

I shrug, glancing down at her hand in mine. Her hands are always so soft; even on the run, Nudge had prioritized skincare.

"I'll be fine," it's as honest as I can be right now, and it's hopeful thinking. Clearly, I'm still alive in the future, and doing better than now. If that's as good as it gets, it's good enough for me. Anything but the current agony in my mind.

Which reminds me.

Angel, I think pointedly, closing my eyes a moment. If you're snooping, get out. Give me space.

I get no answer. I wonder if the glimpses she got earlier have scared her off already. Maybe she is just willing to respect my privacy right now. I can't imagine that, with all the questions she must have.

"We all will be," Nudge says reassuringly, pulling me toward the stairs. "We always are."

I say nothing but I follow her down to where the others are. Everyone is spread between the three open spaces of the main floor—Fang in the dining room on his laptop, Angel and Gazzy in the living room, Iggy in the kitchen drinking a juice and listening to something on his phone with one earbud. They're all here, just…waiting for me. Ready to talk. Staying close, staying ready.

"Look who's up!" Nudge announces at the foot of the stairs. Everyone looks up at me, and I ignore all the emotions in their gazes because dwelling will only lead to a meltdown.

Fang gives me a stern look, filled with worry. He's gonna hurt himself if he doesn't stop.

"You didn't sleep?"

I shrug, moving through toward the kitchen to get water. Iggy hears me approaching and says in my direction over his shoulder, "Lunch is almost done."

"Good, I'm hungry," I say, leaning back against the counter with my bottle and taking a swig. "How is everyone?"

No one says anything. They're all still looking at me in that way I can't stand. I tap my fingers on my water bottle, looking around at them all. Trying to keep myself calm and steady.

"Max," Angel offers up finally, peering from around the couch, "You know this doesn't change anything, right? Like, you're Max. This doesn't make you not Max."

I don't know what to say to that. Nudge is nodding in agreement, standing closest to me and watching me very carefully. No one else says anything, as they're all waiting for my response.

I shake my head, looking down at my drink. My voices wavers vulnerably when I say, "Jeb never even should've created me."

"Don't say that," Nudge says hurriedly, her eyes despondent. "Think about what you're saying. Think about your life. Our lives together. You and Fang! That stuff is real, our bond is real."

I can already feel tears filling my eyes and I beg myself to get a hold of it before the waterworks are unstoppable. I pull in what I hope are a few quick, discreet breaths and say, "I understand if this is hard to deal with…If you guys can't…"

"Stop already," Fang says loudly from his seat at the table. He's leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me from across the room. That's all he says, and he looks away.

Nudge rolls her eyes at him and says to me earnestly, "Max, you already know that we don't care. It's a shock to know the truth, and we've talked about it and we'll keep dealing with it. It's insane, infuriating—it's fucking devastating, Max. I'm sorry you had to watch that."

My face crumples into agony and I have to turn away, facing away from them all. I barely whisper out, "You watched it?"

"Max." She engulfs me from behind. She wraps her arms around me and presses her cheek to my shoulder. "I know this is crazy. I know that all of this feels so unbearable. But…you're still Max. You are whoever you want to be. I know that's stupid, stop," she scolds at my face of incredulity, even through my tears. "It's true. You're here now and all you can do is be you."

Well, of course that's all fine and well-delivered in true Nudge fashion. It's probably the exact same advice I would give her if our roles were reversed—know why?

Because it's practically the only thing you can say to someone in this situation. I'm a clone of someone they loved longer than I've even been alive. How am I to live knowing that? My plan right now is to shove it down and swallow it until I learn to accept it. My place in this world. My role in this story.

Max was supposed to save the world—or whatever Jeb's plan was. Max was supposed to lead the Flock through this madness. She was definitely intended to bond with Fang.

And instead, due to Jeb's error….

Angel is still watching me, from across the room. Eyes wide and teary. I frown at her, looking away. "Angel, I told you to stay out. Just…from now on."

No one looks very happy with that request. Fang looks furious, clearly not pleased. I frown, moving back toward the living room. The others follow, and crowd in together on the couches. Angel turns off the television.

"Okay, come sit," I say, keeping one fist curled tight in the hoodie pocket. I'm trying to get my bouncing knee under control, but it moves on its own accord, fueled by worry. Fang drops onto the sofa beside me, sliding his hand on my knee and keeping it still. I look up at him and he pulls his hand away from my knee, but lets it linger beside my free hand on the couch. I take his hand in mine, looking at the others. Nudge sits on my other side.

"Let's make sure we're all on the same page," Angel offers, smiling at me reassuringly. She reaches for the coffee table, and it's only then that I notice there are files lying on the table.

"This stuff shouldn't be out here," I mumble, looking around at the others. Nudge rolls her eyes.

"Forget about that for a second, this is bigger than our confidentiality agreement," she says quietly.

"So, quick recap, Max," Angel says, preparing me and sending me a cautious glance, "Jeb tried to give Max super healing powers. He used multiple radioactive ingredients and definitely miscalculated how her body would react."

I nod, taking that information in for the first time. I'm still clenching my fist, still using an extreme amount of self-restraint to event sit here and talk to them about this.

I look around. They're all looking at me now with less shock or misbelief. Each face is sincere and definitely worried. They seem to have come to an agreement already, even if they haven't 100% coped with the idea of the real Max dying.

It's difficult for me to even put myself out there right now, but I know they want to hear from me and I really want them to understand my side. Especially about this. I need them to understand, even if they already think they do.

"I…remember my eleventh birthday so clearly," I say quietly. "I truly…I remember waking up and remembering everything. Not just knowing our backstory and basic stuff—I remembered exactly what happened the day before. Training with Jeb, flying around and goofing off until sundown. I remember a specific conversation with you guys about what I should ask Jeb for for my birthday."

Gazzy and Nudge both nod, confirming my memory. Fang just looks at me with the saddest expression. It's really hard to look at him.

"I've never…ever questioned my identity. Until now," I say with a dark chuckle. No one says anything. Fang squeezes my hand but I don't look at him. Nudge pats my shoulder gently, trying to get me to meet her gaze. It seems like if I look away from the carpet my eyes will fill with tears and there will be no turning back.

"Max, no one can tell you how to deal with this," she says softly. "We're gonna be here, though. We're a family. That's not changing."

I nod, swallowing thickly. I can't bring myself to say anything else, and I'm sure they have questions. I sigh, looking up at Fang. He gives me a look, then glances at the Gasman.

I turn to look at him. Poor thing, I've traumatized him clearly with my revelation about his invention. He's fidgeting nervously, watching me with an anxious smile. I sigh, glancing at the others, willing myself to try to make this story sound not crazy. I also take a moment to think of how to leave my skydiving detour out, too.

"I left, I was…freaking out," I explain, choosing my words carefully. "I landed in the mountains and… I saw myself. She told me stuff only I know, told me she needed my help. Told me to come back home and finish what we started."

I gulp, kind of terrified to look at their reactions and get the same thing I got from Fang before. Blank, unresponsive. Completely unbelieving.

"She looked like me. Her hair was way long, longer than I've ever grown it. She showed me my scar," I say, motioning to my arm. "Exactly the same. She mentioned Gazzy; said he would be pleased that it actually worked."

Gazzy is a statue on the end of the other couch. He's pale white.

"Gazzy, don't worry," I say quietly. "I'm sorry, I don't want to freak you out."

"What happened next?" Angel asks. She's the only one who looks convinced by my story so far. Nudge is glancing worriedly at Iggy and Fang, and Iggy still looks completely perplexed by my recount. I'm sure Fang thinks I just hallucinated or something—but how would I make the connection to Gazzy on my own?

"She kept rubbing the back of her neck, getting agitated. She eventually used the device thing and vanished," I say. "She didn't give me much information—said she'd be back. I got up and…came home."

Silence again. Perhaps disbelief. I don't know how else to convince them this really happened. I don't know what I can say to make them believe me. I sigh.

"She's after Jeb. Still. Which means this is bigger than we even know," I say, squeezing Fang's fingers but not meeting his gaze. He's watching me intensely; I can feel it. "We need to keep working on the case."

"Max, you need to take a second," Nudge says gently. "You need a break from the case, if anything. You need to just…let yourself have a moment."

I shake my head, giving her a scowl. The idea of taking a break is ridiculous. If I sit still right now, I'll go nuts. My only chance is to keep working on this.

"No."

Nudge looks at Fang over my shoulder, appalled. Fang says softly, "We're all in now, Max. We can cover ground still while you take a break and you can jump back in when you're ready. I've already emailed my boss."

"No!" I protest, twisting his fingers a bit as my fingers clench around his. He looks at me, eyes sad; I think, again, misinterpreting me completely.

"You guys are not doing this alone anymore," he says softly, privately.

I glance at Gazzy, Nudge. Both don't seem to have much to say about this decision. I feel as if this is exactly what isn't supposed to happen and start crying, surprising even myself.

Fang's eyes go from sorrowful to concerned in a flat second. He drops my hand to grip my shoulder, peering down at me.

"This isn't what I wanted," I say, feeling just awful. "You guys…getting dragged into this when you didn't want to be involved in the first place."

I turn to look at Nudge with watery eyes. "I just want you to get to be a normal teenager, like you've always wanted. I want Fang to get his job and I want everyone else to keep growing and getting better at living like this. A normal life. We deserve it." I stop suddenly, choking on my own hurried breaths, getting carried away. Fuck, I want so much for them. It's frightening to think how long we deal with this, how much more of our lives are consumed in the fear and agony it takes to defeat the School and Jeb for once and for all.

Nudge and Fang both look torn, struggling to figure out what to say. The other three sit silently after my outburst, probably waiting for Fang to say something.

Gazzy's shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest as he sits on the couch, watching me. Finally, he gives up on waiting for someone to respond to my breakdown. He questions, "What could possibly require us to use time travel in the future? To mess with our own timelines? Don't you think that's dangerous?"

I look at him, trying to bring myself back to the topic he's stuck on. I shrug distractedly. "I don't know. She said something about stopping Jeb."

"Stop him from doing what?" Gazzy insists.

"I don't know!"

Gazzy frowns, falling silent, but I can tell he's thinking hard. I feel so upset with myself, to see the family being dragged into this. I rub my forehead, trying to think of more to share with them, but coming up with nothing else useful. Angel reaches for something else on the table between us—my scribbled notes from before. My stomach drops. Gazzy peers over her shoulder, reading out loud.

"Sweatshirt?" he asks curiously.

It's really hard to breathe. I can't stop myself from thinking of the real reason I wrote that—when she quoted back to me my exact idea about turning my sweatshirt around to make it harder to back out of my panic-ridden decision to jump. Of course, I can't admit to that. Not right now. Not ever, probably. Not even because they'd be devastated to know just how close I got, but because Fang would lock me up for sure.

"She just…said something to me about my sweatshirt I had already been thinking. She said she remembered this exact interaction from my perspective."

Gazzy nods, looking intrigued. He follows promptly with, "The pill?"

He looks at me levelly, no hint of teasing or cruelty. Fang must've been stealthy at the pharmacy. I swallow and say quietly, "Same thing."

I hope I'm not blushing.

"Anything else you remember?"

I shrug at the Gasman hopelessly. "I wish I knew more, I just…she was only there for a few minutes. She said she'd be back."

There's silence for a few moments. I don't know what to give them to solve any of this, I don't even know the next step. I don't know what's coming. I can't give them much.

I do know one thing.

"I'm not taking a break," I say evenly, leaning back against the couch. "It's important we keep working and I can't just sit around doing nothing."

Since no one responds still, I continue, "No one has to jump fully into the investigation just because we had to talk about this. I…I appreciate you guys for coming together to do this and supporting me."

Iggy rolls his eyes but says nothing. I don't even look at Fang. Mostly, I care about the younger three—the three I can maybe fool into thinking everything is okay.

"Max," Fang starts lowly, his voice stern.

I squeeze his hand tightly and say over him, "We don't know what this all is yet, and it's not happening right now. I don't want to see everyone put their lives on hold for this. She didn't say anything about being in danger. She needs us to do something."

"Do you hear yourself?" Fang asks finally, his voice cutting through the room in a deep, harsh tone.

I twist to look up at him finally, gaping at his choice of words. After all the evidence I've laid out, he's still being an absolute douche about it? Does he think I hit my head or something? Do the others think I'm crazy, too, and they just aren't showing it? Because they feel bad?

"Fang, I don't think she's making this up," Angel challenges immediately. I'm thankful, because I still have no words. I'm kind of hurt he doesn't believe me, but I wonder if he just thinks I'm really going through something.

Yes, I am, but the time travel thing is a separate event. The worst timing, truly.

"Listen, I don't even care if you think it's true," I say angrily. "I understand everything is crazy right now. I'm so glad you guys are still here, still trust me. I'm sorry this is happening. I wish I knew more."

I sigh heavily at the end, and Nudge glances worriedly between Fang and I. Fang's arm slides around my shoulder and he tucks me into his side. Whether he believes me or not, I know he wants to do what's best for me. I try not to fidget in his arms, feeling twitchy and uncomfortable.

What's up with that? Has my mind talked my body into distrusting our relationship already?

I force myself to say, "I need things to go back to normal. We need to try. If you want to help with the case, please do—but only if you want to."

"The office is a madhouse," Nudge says, eyes wide. She chuckles lightly, looking nervous. "Like, I did not know you guys went that crazy with the poster boards."

I shrug, looking at Gazzy. He's shaken; I feel terrible for what inner dilemma this must be causing him. He didn't ask to know any of this stuff about the future, he didn't even know his drawing could work. I had to tell him, because I needed confirmation.

But the look on his face when he finally understood what my story meant has still not faded, and he seems less excited than I expected. Gazzy loves inventing crazy, random things—he always has. Mostly bombs, when we were in danger. Since then, still a lot of weapons, but every so often he has some harmless gadget that he's showing off.

"Gazzy, are you okay?" I ask, looking at him with worry. It helps to shift the focus off of me, and I see the others turn to him, too.

"Max, I…I just can't understand what we would need it for. I don't get it. What are we doing in the future? This is serious, dangerous stuff."

He looks really worried. Too worried to be excited about his future career as a time traveler. I frown, considering his question again with more focus this time.

She said we were going to stop him. I'm assuming Jeb, and I can't imagine there's a new villain being introduced this late in the game. Stop him…just in general? That's what I had imagined. But perhaps, like Gazzy's predicting, it's something specific.

Maybe she meant we will stop him from doing something specifically. But, what?

"I don't know, Gazzy. Don't think too hard on it."

He shakes his head, shrugging. "I'm fine, I just…can't wrap my head around it."

Don't try! That's my preferred method of dealing with things I can't cope with.

I don't say that.

I look around. Fang looks completely unreached; his face is shielded easily and he's watching me. Nudge is also watching me, worried, eyes wide. Angel and Gazzy seem to be thinking. Iggy gets up quietly to check the food.

Great, now I'm a crazy clone girl, doing exactly what I hadn't wanted to do with this case. The entire thing has blown up, dragging everyone into a giant mess. There's no convincing Fang to go back to work, at least not tonight. If I'm to do that, I need to hold my shit together. I have a feeling we're done entertaining my time travel story for now.

I can't help but feel very nervous about that. I have no idea what's coming; no idea when I'll get another visit. No idea what to make of most of what I've learned today.

I turn to Fang then, suddenly. "Fang, don't quit the job."

He gives me a look. "Not up for debate."

I give him a harder look, getting annoyed. My emotions are currently having their way with me whenever they please. I'm unable to control most of my impulses, like crying. Right now, though, it's anger. All of my frustration with him from the past few months bubbles up to this disgusting little voice in the back of my mind, telling me to hold him to his strict, no-involvement contract still.

Instead, I get up and move across the room, through the dining room. I stare out the window, thinking, overthinking. He doesn't pursue me and the others seem to be in agreement to leave me alone for a moment. Nudge hovers, but says nothing, sitting at the table with a soda and her phone.

I move toward the door. I flick off the security alarm and step outside, pulling on my sweatshirt; it's much colder than I thought. I must've been numb to it last time.

Now Fang follows me. Seems they aren't going to really let me get away for any time alone right now, which is fair, I guess. I look up at him when he comes out. He's holding out my coat.

I take it without a word, slipping into its warmth. I don't bother bringing my wings out—they still ache, and I'm not going anywhere.

Fang is quiet, so I kick around aimlessly on the deck, not meeting his gaze.

"Max, I… what am I supposed to say here?"

I shrug, still not looking up. "I know it's unbelievable, Fang—"

"Unbelievable," he interrupts sharply, his eyes dark and locked on mine the moment I look up. "Exactly. You expect me to leave, leave you to deal with this alone? It's not an option."

I'm taken aback, not on the same page. I thought he'd been talking about the time travel spiel, but he isn't. He's mad that I mentioned him staying at the job.

"Fang, it's three months," I say, shrugging. He looks re-infuriated at my tired nonchalance. "I'm going to be dealing with all of this for a long time." I look out at the forest sadly and Fang scoffs at me, sinking into a chair by the door.

"Max, I need you to talk to me."

Breaking at the sound of his voice, I curse myself. I spin, moving toward him and sinking into the chair beside him. I grab his hand on the table.

"Nothing is what is was," I say eventually, my voice wavering. "I am not okay with it, but I don't have a choice. All I can do is focus on you guys…and this case."

He shakes his head, frowning. "What if we're being targeted?"

I motion around with my other hand, looking at him with a raised brow. "Where? This is the same talk we had two week ago, Fang. We still don't have any proof that we're in danger."

"Okay, still," he says, jaw tight. "I'm not leaving you."

I understand what's happening. It's exactly what Iggy had warned me about, from the very beginning. Fang trying to save me from myself. He's done that all my life.

"Whether you're here or not," I say softly, still holding his hand, "I'm going to deal with this. It's something I have to do myself. Regardless, I have you—I always have you." I pause, looking up at him for some kind of response. "I don't want you to give this up. The normal stuff matters."

"It's nothing," he says, shaking his head. "Doesn't even compare. I need you, and I need you to be okay."

I nod, accepting that. Trying not to let it weigh on me. I know he does, I know they all need the same thing. And I need it, too. It's just so much pressure. I feel it press harder on me as I realize that I don't get to take this journey of self-discovery at my own leisure.

I have a family that relies on me. And if I can't bounce back and get back to normal, they'll drop everything to take care of me.

At that exact moment, that quiet moment alone with Fang, I realize what I need to do. Being open and honest just won't cut it this time. I can't explore the five stages of grief under their worried gazes, and I can't openly show just how fucking insane this all makes me feel. How pointless and hopeless I feel.

We just don't have the time for it. I won't sacrifice their comfort for it.

Not for me.