I don't own The Selection.

OKAAYYYY, not replying to reviews today, but BUT i do have a few things to run by you guys

~ first of all, i'm kind of thinking about where i'm going to end this story. would you like me to keep going until they have all of the children i'm planning on adding, or what are you thinking? any suggestions, ideas, or comments are so greatly appreciated.

~ second of all, i think i'm going to be writing a sequel. in maxon's POV. about their kids as teenagers, which will probably include their retirement. i've never seen this done before so i think it'll be fun. would you be interested in like a trilogy? where i do one book with them as babies (this one), another with them as kids, and another with them as teenagers? please give me your input!

~ thirdly, if you do not know, i had a divergent fanfic, which i deleted today because it sucked LOL. thinking about redoing that one. if anyone here is a divergent fan, please do give input.

~ lastly, i have about three weeks of school left! YAY! buttttt, however, the teachers are loading us down. i have an essay due monday (it's required to get into honors classes) and then i'm going into 9th grade :(( so until then, i probably will not post as often as i once did which really sucks

~ i don't think there are any TWs for this chapter, but do read at your own risk!

love you guys and i hope you enjoy! (also, don't kill me :))

Jamie Kand.

Who the hell was that?

And how was I supposed to figure it out?

According to every record, every file, and every newspaper, she was dead. She had apparently died two years ago in a raid of the rebel base we'd discovered. So she'd probably been killed by my soldiers. Most of my advisors agreed that it could be likely she was upset with me.

There was even more that we had yet to find on her.

I was curious why she wanted to come after me. I mean, I was the head of everything, but that had been Aspen's order. Why was I the target?

Of course, I didn't want Aspen, Adrien, and Lucy to suffer, but something wasn't adding up. There was something we didn't know.

"Maxon," America called, waving a hand in front of my face. "Should I be nervous that you've been zoning out so much?"

I sighed. "No, it's just.. I can't figure out what we're missing."

"Missing?"

"The rebel is female, right?" She nodded. "What else is making her do this, Ames? You, as a woman, tell me something that would make you pissed."

"Uhm," she frowned. "Someone killing my family, someone eating the last strawberry tart.."

I laughed for the first time all day and she slid down into my lap. America wrapped her arms around my neck, hands massaging the back of my neck. With a sigh, I leaned forward, my head landing on her shoulder. My eyes began to fall shut, but she kept going, hands moving from my neck to my very tense shoulders. An appreciative groan left me and she laughed.

She continued, digging deeper into the muscles of my shoulders. I'd never been one for massages but this was very nice. I soon found myself groaning with pleasure at her touch.

"Shhh," she laughed. "There's a guard outside."

"Mhm."

As she sat sideways in my arms, side against my body and legs hanging from the side of my desk chair, I watched the way she smiled at me. It was beautiful. The glint in her eyes brought me more joy than I'd ever imagined possible.

"Feel any better?"

I kissed her lightly. "Tons."

"Thanks for letting me do that."

"Have I been that bad lately?" I asked, and she shrugged. "Ames, I'm sorry."

She took my hand. "You've just been busy. It's okay, Max."

I frowned as she avoided my face. There was something that she wasn't telling me, or maybe she was planning on telling me later. She didn't move from my lap, but I could definitely tell that her mood had shifted greatly. I rubbed small circles on her thigh, kissing her shoulder at the same time.

Her arm moved around my neck.

"At least we can eat lunch together," she decided. "That's something."

"How about we eat dinner and breakfast together too?"

"No.. no! No!"

I was startled by the shouts that came from America, who was lying next to me. Once I was half-awake, I turned on the lamp next to me.

America was thrashing around in her sleep, yelling and shouting. She was dripping with sweat. I began to shake her, hoping it would successfully wake her. She kicked me in the side and I winced, but continued on my mission to wake her up. She was gripping my arm, punching at my other one.

"America!" I begged.

She shot up with a gasp that quickly dissolved into dozens of sobs.

I pulled her into my arms, holding her securely. Aspen—who must have been on duty or near our room—burst through the door, looking between America and I.

"Maxon?"

"We're fine,"

He nodded and bowed. When the door shut, I kissed America's head as she let out strange noises, most of them being violent sobs. I began to rub her back. All I knew to do was to comfort her.

"The attack," she choked, breaking down once again. "The attack."

That was all I truly needed to figure out what had happened. She'd had a nightmare about the rebel attack. I mean, I wasn't expecting it, but I wasn't that surprised. She'd never been through anything like that herself.

I ran gentle fingers through her red, flaming hair and placed gentle kisses all over her face and hands, even her head.

The time passed as I repeated this soothing motion until America went somewhat limp in my arms. I kissed her head softly and helped her get back into her original position. She refused and instead, we switched sides. I wrapped my arms around her like always and whispered my goodnights to her.

The morning came faster than I'd had liked.

Mary yanked open the curtains, sending the brightest of lights into our bedroom. I groaned and she laughed. She threw me a curious look, gesturing to us with two of her fingers. They flipped over and I got the message.

She had noticed our change in sleeping positions. Never once in the last four years had we switched sides. It just never happened.

"Rough night," I explained. "America had a nightmare. Do you think you could take a note to Stavros?"

"Of course, sir."

"It's Maxon, Mary."

"As I once told Her Majesty, I use the titles out of respect. Not out of duty, sir."

I wrote a quick note to Stavros, telling him I wouldn't be able to come to the eight o'clock meeting this morning. Though, I'd be there the rest of the day. I included an apology and a reason; America didn't feel well and I needed to stay with her.

"Was it that bad?" Mary asked.

I nodded. "It took a while to calm her down. She was yelling and kicking."

A sympathetic look crossed her face. "Would you like me to bring her a few strawberry tarts, sir?"

"Please,"

Mary curtsied and left, soon returning with a plate of breakfast for each of us. The tarts looked amazing. I knew America would love them. She'd also brought a note back from Stavros. It was his response.

He'd promised me he'd cover for me and stated that he hoped America felt better soon. After I'd put it away, my fatherly duties for the day began.

Roman and Avery were both wiggling around in their cribs, most likely waiting to be fed. As much as I loved them, they were a bit demanding some days. I set them both in their baby pillow device that America had bought and held both bottles. I'd definitely gotten better at multitasking since it was a necessary skill with twins. Everything had to be done twice, or at the same time.

Avery was done first, and I carefully burped her while keeping an eye on Roman. Once they'd both been fed and burped, I did quick diaper changes.

I was starting to notice real differences as they neared seven months.

Their weight had easily doubled since they'd been born, and they had much more advanced motor skills. According to two doctors, they could be crawling soon. Even as preemies, their development had not been halted.

I laughed as Roman grabbed his own toes. He'd pulled himself into what looked like a rather uncomfortable position, with his body curled up into a ball.

There was a chuckle from the doorway and I turned.

It was Aspen, who was leaning against the door frame. I brought Avery up to hold her against my chest. She immediately went after my nose, poking and squeezing it. Aspen apparently found this funny as he sat down and took Roman.

"How's Mer?"

I shrugged. "She's asleep. I'm not sure what happened."

"You have a bruise," he said, gesturing to my forearm and elbow. "Did she hurt you?"

"Not really."

"Was it a nightmare? Or a panic attack?"

"Maybe a nightmare that caused a panic attack," I decided. "She was yelling and then she started kicking and fighting me. It took an hour to calm her down."

"Oh, damn. Has it ever happened before?"

I shook my head as Avery wiggled in my lap again. Her red hair, which was growing quickly now, was down and came down to her ears in more of a masculine haircut. We'd already gotten hate from the press for it because she resembled her brother more closely now, but honestly? Even Gavril found it hilarious. She was six months old.

"I swear Rome is your twin," Aspen said, breaking the silence. Roman looked up at his name.

"I know," I said. "It's scary. All he lacks are my eyes, but at least Avery has those. She'll be able to pass them down to her kids."

He frowned. "As her not-blood-related-uncle, I say no boys until she's fifty. Actually, no boys until I'm dead."

"And as her blood-related-father, I second that."

We both laughed. I enjoyed talking to Aspen, even if he had once been in love with my wife. There was no competition anymore. It was just us as friends, doing things friends would do for each other.

"Are you two seriously going to have six of these?" Aspen asked.

I shrugged. "If it happens, we'll take them. And if it doesn't these two are perfect anyway."

"True. So you're going with the flow, then?"

"Basically. You?"

"Lucy wants lots of kids, but as a child with lots of siblings, I think three is enough for us. She's looking into becoming a maid again and I'm still on-call all the time. Adrien is hard enough."

"I think that's reasonable. She's becoming a maid again?"

"She said she's missing having something to do other than watch Addy. I think she loved working for Mer," he explained.

Aspen and I didn't talk for long before he went off to work, leaving me with the twins. I set them back down in their cribs and headed to our bedroom again, only to find America washing her face in the bathroom.

She noticed me shortly after I entered the bathroom.

Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun, her eyes bloodshot and dark circles under them. I let her dry her face before pulling her into my arms. She was wearing one of my faded sweatshirts that she begged me to keep and simple shorts.

"You stayed," she whispered, holding me tightly. "Don't you have work?"

"Stavros is covering for me this morning. How do you feel?"

She laughed. "Uhm.. slightly embarrassed."

"Don't be," I said. She moved her eyes to my arm, where I had a purpling bruise. "Ames, you just—"

"I hurt you!" she said, breaking down.

Tears leaked from her eyes as she pushed my shirt up, only to reveal another bruise from where she'd kicked me. I let her look at it. She ran a finger over it and I winced, and that caused her to begin sobbing.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her to my chest.

"I hurt you," she whispered. "I hurt you."

"You didn't. I'm fine, Ames."

She shoved me away. "I put a damn bruise on your body, Maxon! I hit you! Do not tell me this is fine. You suffered for years and I have the audacity to—to hurt you."

America was comparing herself to my father.

She turned on her heel and left me standing there, gaping at her sudden outburst. She'd locked the door so that I couldn't get into the bedroom, so I went to the hallway door. Also locked. I knocked on the door.

"At least let me get my clothes, Ames."

She opened the door, dropped them, and closed it again.

Markson—the guard who had just witnessed this—tilted his head with curiosity. The guards had stopped thinking I would chop their heads off for asking questions. I simply shrugged and headed down the hallway towards a royal guest room.

I got ready for work as always.

In my office, Stavros was already waiting. It was just us today.

He stood and bowed as always. "Your Majesty."

The first order of business today was going over Kota's latest interrogation that had been based around America's attempted murder. I read over each line as we listened to. Kota hesitated several times which raised my suspicion.

"I don't want America to die."

"That contradicts what you told us earlier this year."

"You think I want her dead?"

"I think you want many people dead."

"Is she okay?"

His question was never answered.

I couldn't understand why he was suddenly acting like he cared. The man had told us all that he hated America just months ago. And it had been listened to by doctor after doctor, psychiatrist after psychiatrist. Not one had even suspected that he'd been lying.

So why had he suddenly changed his mind?

That night, I went back to the King's suite to find a note lying on the bed.

At least this time I was able to get in. But the question I had was, where was America? She must've gone somewhere and it definitely wasn't here.

I unfolded the note, revealing America's messy handwriting.

Maxon,

I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at me. I'll be sleeping in the Queen's suite for a few days, just so I can get over this. I swear, it's not your fault. I love you.

Your Love,

America