A/N: Alright, I wanna know when you guys check Fanfiction for an update most often. Like, when should I update? What time of day would work? Lately I update late at night and wait like 12 hours for someone to review.

Anyway. Some of these chapters feel tedious. I'm getting so ahead of myself with the storyline in my head, but still trying to flesh out all the details chapter-wise. Idk how I'm doing but I hope the story is easy enough to follow so far.

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

M

I walk out of the room, looking down at my phone to call Alana. It starts ringing as I cross through the girls' room into mine and Fang's.

I'm angry and feeling quite trapped right now, and I really hope Fang finds anywhere else to be because I don't want to deal with him right now. I close the door to our room behind me, trying to send that message.

I sigh and plop onto the bed as the line clicks.

"Max. How are you?"

I feel like she's really asking, and it's rare that someone—especially law enforcement—asks me that and means it. I sigh.

"This is...tough," I start, sounding pathetic. If I can tell I'm being fake, so can she. "This is really fucking hard. For them. For me. We're divided on whether or not we want to help go through the evidence." I pause, and wait, but she doesn't say anything. She can tell I need to say something else.

"I...feel like I have to help."

Alana still takes a second to respond, and when she does it's gentle. "Max, I know this has been a long day. I've been talking with my team about proceeding with evidence recovery. I mean, we've got a few vans full of documents and laptops—this is going to be a long process. The Flock is free to choose how much, if any, of discovery they assist with." Alana pauses, letting that sink in. "You aren't needed to stay in Colorado any longer, I just figured it was best to get that step out of the way."

I breathe out a snort. Best. Absolutely. But she's right, we needed to see it. I'm not sure we would've believed it any other way. I rub my forehead.

"What's our next step?"

"Well, to be quite honest, there is no procedural way to handle a case exactly like this." No kidding. "And I refuse to not let you have 100% access to what is found, because it's clear here you aren't suspects and most importantly, you are the victims. You deserve the truth more than anyone."

The word victims stings, but I know she means well. I also know she's right. Suddenly, I feel less unsure about the pull inside me that still, even without Fang's support, begs me to pursue this.

She continues, "I want to send you a department laptop, so you can access the server and all the documents we'll be logging. Everything will need to be officially processed first, so someone is going to see each piece of evidence before you do, but I assure you I'll send you all you want. I can get someone to personally deliver the equipment once you're back home."

I push back the part of me that doesn't want her to know where we live. She's FBI, she could figure it out if she dug hard enough. And she's on our side, and I've been over being suspicious of normal people for a while now.

I pull in another slow breath, glancing up at the door. Still closed, surprisingly. Maybe he knows I don't want to be around him right now. Maybe he doesn't want to have to defend himself to me.

Maybe he doesn't even want to be in the room for my phone call. He doesn't want to do it.

"That sounds good. Maybe two laptops, if possible," I request softly. "Just so we can cover more ground. But, we're also in school, and I don't want this to take over—"

"Max, the speed at which you view the evidence will not slow down my end," Alana promises. "We are eager to get Batchelder sentenced, so we're going to be focusing on this case one hundred percent."

"Yeah, thank you," I say, shocking myself by truly meaning it. "We...don't really work well with people, but thank you for making it easy."

She hums, thinking. "I'm not sure if I'm the easiest to work with, but I promise you I am dedicated. And patient. Which means I won't give up until we've got him. For good."

I blink, not too overcome by that promise. Outlandish promises have been made to me before, and yet here we are.

"I'm looking forward to it," I say.

"We will definitely be here through the night. Looking like a long night of photographing and collecting from the lower level, now that we have access. This is my personal number, if you want to save it. You can give me a call if you need anything." She takes a minute for her meaning to sink in, and the longer we sit in silence the more awkward and vulnerable I feel.

"Thanks," I say shortly, suddenly feeling uncomfortably exposed. Being on the other end of someone's sympathy is never fun, but especially in the wake of such an overwhelming day. I want to hang up, and pray she doesn't drag this You can trust me out any longer.

She doesn't.

"Thank you for your help today, Max. Get some rest."

We hang up, and I toss my phone onto the bed beside me. I fall backward, dragging my fingers down my face, trying to process the emotions that are piling up in a threatening heap. I hear the door click open and I say from behind my fingers, "Get out, I don't want to talk to you."

"Well, you said whenever I was ready," Angel says lightly, but the effort is barely there.

I sit up quickly, feeling awful. She knows this already but shrugs it off, rolling her eyes at me. She comes to sit with me on the bed and I roll my shoulders, letting my wings spread out and relax into the spare space behind me.

Angel sees me do this and does the same, and I can see her façade crumble just as she relaxes her shoulders. They sag. Her lips are pulled into a troubled frown. She looks way grown up, and haunted.

"Angel, are you okay?" I begin cautiously.

Angel looks up at me, looking absolutely nothing like the innocent child I used to see. Her eyes are rolling with an emotion I can't exactly name. A combination of hurt and pain and knowing. Knowing pain from her own eyes, and the eyes of everyone else. Today and every day. Her eyes have had a shadow of that for a while now, the older she gets and the more we endure. But today her eyes are dark with it, and she looks on the verge of melting down.

"It's a lot, and I'm overwhelmed, but I'm handling it. Flying would help. Are we going home?"

Of course, she'd heard me on the phone. I give her a harder look, not done interrogating her. "Will you talk to me?"

She looks down, away from me again. Her voice gets softer, and she admits reluctantly, "I remember stuff. I've always remembered things from those rooms. I just thought they were memories from the School, until today."

I consider it. She was so young, it makes sense that the timeline and locations could've all blurred together for a while. Or maybe Jeb fucked with her memory, if he did it to Fang and I. So many ifs.

She continues, "They were never important memories. But the whole place was familiar. And I know you know I'm not the only one. Iggy... and Nudge had a rough time. So did Gazzy," she says, her voice breaking. "I mean, everyone did. In their own way. I'm really tired."

She ends on the word, which sums up her entire presentation currently. I look her over harder and notice her fingers twisting together in her lap, and teeth tugging at the inside of her cheek. Her eyes, too wise and tired for any normal child.

"Honey, I am so sorry," I say, tugging her into my arms. I cradle her easily, effortlessly, as if it weren't a lifetime ago when I was cradling her small form in my arms, rocking her to sleep after a nightmare. She lets out a slow, quivering breath and relaxes against me for a few moments.

Finally, she sighs and sits up, tucking her curls behind her ear. "When are we going?"

I open my mouth to respond as the door opens again behind me. I spin around to see Fang, looking at me expectantly. He glances past me, eyes landing on Angel, and his lips twitch. He walks into the room, no longer waiting for my impending retort or explosion because Angel is in here. I scoff at him and grab my jacket, tucking my phone in my pocket.

I realize that my annoyance with him is mostly displaced and unfair, but I can't control the burst of frustration I get when he goes about his business in the room without even trying to talk to me about this.

"We're going home," I say, watching him for a moment to see that he doesn't react at all. "We'll be back before eleven if we leave now and fly straight there. I want everyone to get to bed on time."

Angel chokes out a surprised laugh, looking at me incredulously. "If you think any of us are going to school tomorrow..."

I return her look with a Look. "You better come up with a good excuse then, because I suck at making them up."

Angel laughs.

"So, what did you decide?" Fang offers.

I look at him, and give him nothing when he makes eye contact with me. "I haven't changed my mind. I don't bail."

Why am I being a brat? Maybe because it's in my DNA. Maybe because I really do need him, and he just bailed on me big time—or that's how it feels, at least. I'm immature and like making him suffer when I suffer.

"Angel, can you get everyone ready to leave soon?"

Angel nods and ducks out of the room, letting the door swing closed behind her in that pointed but subtle way she has mastered. Talk out your shit.

I curse her out of my head and look at Fang, sitting on the bed, looking at his laptop. I watch him for a moment, and it only takes him a second to feel my gaze and sense my expectation.

"Max," he begins, but I don't let him finish.

"I know I'm not really allowed to be angry with you," I blurt. "But I am. I feel like you left me alone to tackle this. I can't believe you aren't going to help me."

His face twists into disbelief and hurt for a moment, before locking back into masked casualty. The most frustrating move of his. Fuck his fucking poker face.

"Max," he starts again slowly, "no one is making you do this. You're choosing to do this—you told me, and everyone else, to make our own choices, too."

"You're full of shit," I hiss. "You know I have to do this. You know we'll find out most of this shit anyways. Why would you want to find out in a case file before appearing in court? Don't you want to know its real? Don't you want to have the full picture?"

"No!" he shouts. He stands up, and now we're barely a foot apart, both breathing harder and looking at each other expectantly. "Max, there is most definitely a reason you and I don't remember the full picture. This whole thing is hugely fucked up, and I don't want to go back."

He reaches for my hands and I give them, letting him pull me closer. I press my nose to his t-shirt, and then slide to lie my cheek on his chest.

"I know I said we can handle anything, but that doesn't mean I think we need to seek the painful shit out."

I curl my fingers into the back of his shirt, bunching it in my fists. "Fang, I don't understand why—"

"I love you," he says. It's so not the first time he's told me this, but it takes me by surprise because it feels out of nowhere. "I love us. I don't want for us to change because of our past. I can still form a good picture of who I am without my past."

I stare at him. It's a lot to take in. He squeezes my hands and drops them, looking at me expectantly.

"I can't form a good picture of myself," I say finally, "without figuring out the truth. The entire picture. The point."

Fang rubs his forehead. "Max, whatever point you find in the midst of Jeb's crazy is just Jeb's point. Who gives a fuck what he thinks? We are moving forward; we don't need to understand him!"

"I do!"

He doesn't say anything.

"I do need to understand him, Fang. My entire life...is because of him. I need to understand why he did it, and I need to understand what he wanted. I will never know myself until I know myself through this. And I think all of us, eventually, will have the same revelation." I say it with finality, and move to start packing my bag. I'm mad at him, still, and yet I want to hold him again. He doesn't say anything to me, and doesn't get up to start packing yet.

Before I can decide to say something or not, the door opens and Nudge hurries in, looking at me with alarm.

"Are we going home? Already?"

"Is that okay?"

Her face brightens unexpectedly. "Yes! Thank you, Max. I can't wait to get out of here."

I look at her with surprise and only manage a, "We're leaving in five."

She hurries out of the room. I look at Fang.

I can't endure this flight, as long and lonely as it will feel, knowing this is unfinished. But we don't have time to finish it now, so I try to put it on pause.

"Are we good?"

He stands up, closing his laptop, and comes over to me. He drops a kiss on my forehead and grabs his backpack from the dresser.

"We're always good."