A/N: Here's to 2020.

Disclaimer: James Patterson owns the characters and any recognizable canon info. Thanks JP, for this chaotic universe you gifted us.

M

Fang does me the favor of getting up first a few long, selfish moments after we settle together. This allows me to not look as psychotic as I could've, immediately reaching for my phone once his feet hit the floor.

"Alana texted," I say lowly, but loud enough for my voice to carry to him in the bathroom. "She wants to talk about moving forward. Wants our help with identifying and corroborating things they find."

Fang doesn't say anything, and I'm not surprised. I feel like I should be jumping to get to D.C. and dig in, discover all the heaping piles of evidence that will finally give us what we want. And instead, I'm just as silent as him, thinking about the horrors this could open for all of us.

Fang finally steps into the doorway of the bathroom. He leans his shoulder against the doorjamb and then says, "We don't have to do it."

Immediately out of my mouth: "Yes, we do."

Fang frowns, looking down at his shoes. He holds there for a moment and then comes to sit by me. He's only in pajama pants. I'm still sitting in bed, only surrounded by the stiff motel comforter. He levels his gaze with mine.

"It feels like this is the first decision where we actually have a choice," he says quietly. "The cops will continue on without us, even if we refuse to help."

"Nothing real is going to happen unless we're there to prove all of their evidence," I say. I shake my head and reach for his hand. "But I get what you mean. I'm afraid that we can't handle it."

He looks at me. "I think we can handle anything."

I smile gently. I want to agree with him, I want to believe in us as a team. But this all isn't going to test us as a team. It's going to attack us each individually, in the most personal way possible.

And what we can handle together, I definitely can't handle alone.

"I'm worried," I say, because I struggle with the word scared. He knows that, though, and understands everything else I'm still not saying out loud. I pull in a slow breath. "I think we need to talk to the others first. I want to see how they feel."

I pull on the sweatshirt lying next to my backpack. I dig in the same pack for some pants, and turn to Fang when I'm fully dressed. I see that he is, too. I don't say anything, because I'm still stuck in my own world, orbiting around the idea of discovering my deepest, darkest baggage.

I open the connecting door to Angel and Nudge, who look up immediately at me. They're sitting on Nudge's bed. Angel has her legs crisscrossed, and next to her Nudge is curled up, with her back against the headboard and her arms around her knees.

Her head lifts when she sees Fang and I enter the room. "Max, can we talk?"

I look at Fang once and then back at her, nodding. "Yeah, we need to get the guys in here."

"No," Nudge says quickly. "Just us. Please."

I glance over at Angel, realizing the heaviness of the atmosphere I've walked into. I nod and Angel gets up, moving toward the boys' room. Fang follows her lead without a word. I step toward Nudge's bed, but she's getting up.

"Let's go somewhere else," she offers, her voice masked casually. But I know her, and I know her panic tells. And one of them is the visible twitching of her wings as she waits for me to answer her. Her eyes dart between mine, which is another. And she knows I see right through it—it's pissing her off.

"Max, don't fuck with me right now."

I scoff quietly and lead us out the door, swiping one of the keys on my way out. She closes the door behind us, looking around.

"I wish we could just take off right now," she mumbles genuinely, falling into step with me down the sidewalk towards the stretch of forest we'd landed in. Since we didn't tell anyone we were leaving, I'm hoping a walk will suffice to quiet the voice in her head urging her to run.

"I get it," I say softly. "I feel like running from it, too."

"No."

I look at her, and she shakes her head. Her wide, brown eyes look ten times older, suddenly, and her lips are set in a firm line.

"I will not be part of this."

She is serious. Dead serious. She is scared, I can clearly see that now that she's letting me, now that it's just us.

"Okay," I say immediately. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not," she says shakily. Tears are welling in her eyes, but she hardens her face again. She's tilting her head to blink back the tears. Pulling in an unsteady breath.

"Max," she says levelly, looking me directly in the eyes. "I know for a fact that Jeb took me down there."

I feel my heart start to hammer away at my ribcage. We're stopped, standing on the sidewalk not even a block from the motel. I suddenly feel so exposed and so unsafe. I swallow.

"What do you remember?" I ask, my mind reeling with questions. What horrible thing did she discover today, walking through that lab? Did anyone else remember anything? Angel has probably experienced everyone's emotions and memories today.

Nudge shakes her head. "Not full memories. But the smell, and the rooms—" she huffs, hugging herself and looking down at her shoes. I give her a moment. "I've been down there before. And honestly, I don't want to know every awful thing he did to me, or to any of us."

I completely get her argument, but still I push. Because I get the opposing argument, too, and I want her to be sure. I push—but gently.

"Nudge, I get it. Smells like that have always made my skin crawl—"

"Max, I've been in those rooms." I watch her eyes fill up again with insistent tears and she shuts her eyes quickly and with a slight whimper. "You probably have, too. The thing is, I don't need to know the gory details to help. And I, honest to God, don't want to." She blinks, and swipes the wet streaks off her cheeks. Replaces the mask one more time, and says firmly, "I am not going to participate in this investigation."

I don't know what this means for the business side of things, but I know I'm not going to question her again. Whatever she felt today, walking through that lab, she is not okay. I refuse to push any of the kids to go through this if they aren't ready or can't face it. At the end of the day, if there are some things we never remember, maybe that's okay.

But in my case, I need to know. Not because it's my mission or some other shit proclaimed in Jeb's manifesto, but because I need to piece together the puzzle that has been our lives. I feel like we deserve to understand completely whatever Jeb's master plan was. And along the way, we'll discover more about ourselves...and our pasts. It's a double-edged sword, as cliché as they come.

"Nudge, you don't have to," I say gently, my mind still speeding ahead. "I'm sorry you are so shaken up. I expected to remember something today, to be honest. But I didn't."

She sniffles, swiping her poufy hair behind her ear. "Be glad you didn't."

I bite the inside of my cheek. She thinks I've been spared by today's events, concrete against the feelings. Does she forget my mega breakdown at the reveal of Jeb's secret home—beneath levels of secret lab, no less?

"I'm just in shock," I say honestly, opening myself up even though it seems scary right now. We'd gotten better at talking, as a Flock, since we'd been settled into our home and living routine lives. We don't hide so much—or we work really hard not to, at least. The more this investigation starts to feel threatening and unsafe, the less I want to be that open. I don't want to let my dark and scary out.

It's been away for so long.

But I'm trying not to shut anyone out. And Nudge just let me in, big time.

"And I'm terrified," I add after a moment. "But...I think I have to help."

Nudge chews on her cheek and lets out a breath, still hugging herself. "You don't have to do anything."

She's right. At most I was required to comply with the FBI, but I didn't have to work the case with them. I just was allowed to do that if I wanted to. Before this was a scenario, hell yes I wanted to be a part of any investigation against Jeb. I wanted it done right. I wanted our story to be set straight, so we could get on with legal, final lives that we could settle into.

A lot is riding on this. That is part of why I felt I need to help. But also, there's the fact that I'm branded with Jeb's bizarre and unspecific mission to save the world. Though I feel that mission is both out of reach and bullshit, I do think I owe myself and everyone else a fucking explanation of what the hell that was all about.

Maybe I don't. Maybe I need to do it for some other reason. Either way...

"Nudge, there are some things that I just have to do."

I feel my body overreacting and succumbing to feelings I don't have time for. Nudge sees my mood change and holds back whatever self-empowerment speech she had prepared. I turn, nodding toward the motel.

"Some of them may feel the same way," I say, trying to sound encouraging. That alone is depressing.

Nudge nods. "Even if they don't, I'm not changing my mind."

"And you shouldn't," I say earnestly, walking beside her. "Now tell me. How are you?"

She shrugs, pausing. "Tried to sleep. Couldn't. No one else except you guys I can really talk to, but at the same time I know Angel has her own shit—"

"Did Angel remember something, too?"

Nudge shrugs. "I don't know much. She doesn't want to talk about it. But she already knew I had remembered something about the place, because she asked me about it."

I sigh, muffling a very low curse. Nudge nods. I was right about my assumption—Angel took the impact of not only her own triggering moments, but everyone else's.

I can't help but wonder why I didn't remember anything. It was absolutely foreign. If you'd asked me before I saw the place, I would've told you he probably built it after we'd left. Built on. Built...down, I guess. I don't know. But holy crap.

Not a single part of what we experienced this morning is familiar or recognizable to me. Fang had said the same thing to me already. He hadn't experienced any moments of true memory recollection or even déjà vu, beyond the normal, knee-jerk reactions in any hospital-like venue.

We get back inside the room and hear everyone else gathered in Gazzy and Iggy's room. Nudge sighs and pulls on her zipper, shrugging her coat off as we move into the room. She sits on Iggy's bed, up against the headboard with him, and leans her head against his arm.

"Hey," Iggy says, arm wiggling under her head, "get any rest?"

She frowns. "No."

Iggy gets up, heading over to the small kitchenette. "Tea?"

She makes a face at me.

He offers again, "Coffee?"

She leans back into the pillow, blinking. "Yeah, coffee sounds good. Thanks."

"Alright," I say, leaning back against the wall. "How is everyone feeling?"

"Violated," Gazzy offers, looking at me from across the room with a genuine look of half-seriousness and half-humor.

"Overwhelmed," Angel adds before I can respond to Gazzy.

Nudge doesn't wait to pitch in, "Finished here."

Iggy steps toward her, away from the coffee pot. "Nudge?"

"I can't do it, guys. I want to go home."

Her eyes flit to mine. She doesn't want to do exactly this. This is why she came to me, first.

"Nudge, we have to—" Iggy starts empathetically, but I cut him off.

"We don't have to do anything."

Gazzy's big eyes meet mine, a flash of quick relief in them at my words. Angel watches me, but isn't giving me much by expression. Iggy looks a little flabbergasted.

"How do we just tell the FBI we don't want to help?" he asks incredulously. "How are they going to corroborate anything without us?"

"First of all, I'm going to be there every step of the way no matter what," I say firmly, sealing my own fate and dismissing anymore wondering about the what ifs. "But we've all got our own shit, and our own reasons. We will put him away, no matter what. But if some of you," I say, spinning off of Iggy to the rest of them, "don't want to do this, you don't have to do it."

It only takes a moment of silence then.

"I don't know if I want to do it," Gazzy says.

And then.

"Honestly, me neither."

I spin to look at Fang, taking effort to keep my jaw from dropping open at him.

He looks at me regretfully, but I can see that he's not just saying this. He means it. He doesn't want to dig deeper into this. He's scared.

I swallow.

Well, I'm fucking scared, but never imagined doing this without him. Had I selfishly expected him to take the leap with me?

"Max, I'm sorry," he says quietly.

I bite my lip for a minute, trying not to make this a big Max and Fang moment, as the kids would call it. One of those moments they eventually regret being present for, for whatever reason.

"You said you didn't remember anything," I say, not understanding.

He looks at me, his face completely open. This is a rarity, especially with the others in the room.

"I don't," he says firmly. "But everyone else did today. You and I are the only ones who don't remember it at all."

I'm taken aback by this, looking at the others for confirmation. My heart clenches as they nod or shrug. Angel just doesn't even look at me.

"Guys, but—"

"Maybe he made us forget." Fang shrugs. "Maybe we shouldn't remember."

I pull in a shallow, shaky breath. If I do this, I do this without Fang. I dive deep and find things and Fang wants no part of it.

I get it, I do, because of course I get it. But at the same time, does he not feel the demand I feel to help? Or the loyalty to do this beside me? Thinking about our options hours ago, I had only known I would survive exploring this hell of a world Jeb created because we would do it together.

"Who here is even willing to help?" I ask finally, not looking at Fang. I am angry at him but know I shouldn't be. I feel officially deserted by my Flock, but only because they're doing exactly what I told them to do, and put themselves first here.

"I'm helping," Iggy says definitively. "Fuck Jeb. Let's get him."

"I'm helping," Angel repeats monotonously, but adds nothing. She makes eye contact with me, but again gives nothing away.

Not ready to talk about it.

She pushes the thought to me in lieu of eternal silence. I expect she's listening, and think pointedly, We can talk, sweetheart. Whenever you're ready.

I look around one last time. I make eye contact with Fang, and he gives me a look.

"Well, I'm not sure the exact agreements yet," I say, looking down at my phone. "But none of you are locked in. If you decide you want to stop helping you can back out. If you decide you want to know what's being found..."

I trail off, looking at Fang again.

...you can help me navigate this fucking nightmare and stop being so selfish.