A/N: Chapter 29 already!

I am so thankful you guys are still along for this craziness! I'd love to hear from some of the new subscribers…if you have ideas, opinions or theories! Welcome to the ride!

Threw in a bit more detail from Fang here, thanks to staphylococci. Thank you not only for leaving an incredibly thoughtful review on each chapter but for reviewing again when you think of something new.

I love hearing your thoughts!

Warning: Language and sadness and typos, probably.

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

She's restless.

Fang barely sleeps, caught up in his thoughts and worry. She's mumbling and twitching in her sleep. Her face is twisted in discomfort or fear or some other negative energy. Fang spends hours of the early morning just watching her, ready to wake her if it ever gets too much or she calls out.

At one point, close to five, she does just that. He jerks alert as she shrieks, a guttural sound that rips free and dies out within only a few quick seconds. Still, it's jarring and haunting. She's still asleep, face drawn worriedly, mouth open wide. She jolts awake with a sudden gasp and Fang watches.

She doesn't notice he's awake right away. Her face crumbles and she's crying softly. She just does that for a while. Fang feels wrong, watching her without saying anything. He can't say anything now, not yet.

She drags in a few breaths, taking this moment for just herself. When she turns to look over to see if he's awake, he reaches for her. He tries not to let her have even a moment to be embarrassed or ashamed. She whimpers quietly, barely a sound. Fang pulls her close and tucks her under his chin and wills her to get even an hour of sleep without a nightmare. She clings to him, fingers gripping him closely, legs tangling with his. He strokes her hair and kisses her forehead, watching her to see if she'll sleep.

She flicks her eyes up at him, and then sighs, rubbing her wet eyelashes and lying against his pillow. She scoots forward until her nose is bumping his chest and lets out a soft sigh, shutting her eyes. Fang looks over her toward the window. It's only just becoming bright outside—it'll be another few hours before the sun fully rises over the mountains.

He keeps pulling his fingers through her hair, listening to her breathe, partially waiting for the next hitch or catch in rhythm—the sign that the next night terror is taking hold. She used to have these often, right after all the running. The first few months of working with the CSM, they'd traveled constantly for air shows. Those were uneasy days, especially for Max. it took awhile for them to feel like they weren't being watched or followed or hunted. Max had nightmares for months—so did the others. Fang just opted out of sleep for most of the night, only drifting off when he finally couldn't fight it. Usually if someone else was awake, it was easier.

Fang's mind drifts over the day before, still reeling. He's sure he isn't the only one. Something like this, at this magnitude, will take a while for them all to fully digest. After the initial shock had worn off, and Nudge had finally come home and been updated, they'd easily reached a consensus.

Max is Max. There is no changing that or undoing it, even if you make the backstory more complicated. You can't just deconstruct a person that way. Definitely not Max.

It had been so easily reached, all at once by each member of the Flock, that this agreement didn't really need discussion. Not a single one of them was ready to doubt her, or not trust her, or even question if she were intended to be a pawn for the School.

Of course she was. They all were. What does that matter?

After that, while Max was supposed to be resting, Fang had scoured the procedure documents with Angel, demanding she fill in any missing information. And after a few more questions, Angel had clammed up when Fang asked if Max had been thinking about anything she didn't admit to out loud.

Fang is hot with anger and sadness just remembering Angel's face. Fuck, it's not like he knew there was something to be told. But thank God he'd asked—by the way Angel was reluctant to mention it, it seemed like she had been ready to sit on the information quietly and ignore it, just like Max was.

Fang can't blame Angel for that, especially because her decision was probably influenced by Max's own thought process. She couldn't deal with what had happened, with what she knew. Max had disappeared and absolutely lost it, and she'd come closer than ever to just completely wiping herself off the map.

He pressed her to tell him, and Angel had easily crumbled. It's not like Angel doesn't understand the act of suicide, but she just didn't or couldn't say it that way.

"Her head is scary. She…she's not thinking right. And she…she keeps thinking about this one moment in the mountains, Fang."

Angel hadn't even wanted to tell him, but of course she knew she had to. As soon as she elaborated, he's frozen, watching the computer screen with just this dead, sad look on his face.

She said she'd been crying and screaming. Freaking out. Just folded her wings in and gave up.

Barely saved herself before landing in the mountains on a cliff.

She didn't do it, she didn't complete it—but she tried. She thought about it.

To be honest, Fang never expected that kind of thing from Max. Max wasn't the kind to ever value her life lightly. Even when she'd sawed open her arm, that had been for the chip—even if she would've ended up dying if she'd kept going in her panic, that hadn't been her goal.

It's so out of character, and that's what makes it scary. This clone revelation has really shaken her to the core. He knows that.

He also knows that her first brush with almost killing herself has left her devastated and ashamed. He believes her right now that she won't try again. He just doesn't know what next week or month look like.

All because of Jeb and the case.

It's infuriating, because from the start Fang knew there was a reason they shouldn't get involved. He had no idea the magnitude of it, but he knew something was wrong. Especially for he and Max to have no memories or déjà vu moments in the lab under the E house.

Max sleeps maybe an hour longer without interruption. Finally, around 6:30 she gasps awake and just blinks up at him, meeting his eyes and smiling weakly. She draws a hand down his cheek, rubbing his stubble.

"You didn't sleep," she mumbles accusingly.

"I did, two hours," he says gruffly. "How are you doing?"

She just shrugs in his arms, settling against him quietly. He wiggles her, rolling over against her, egging her silently to answer. Eventually she gives in with an escaped breath of a laugh.

"I'm fine," she says finally, fingers crawling up his chest. They settle on his shoulders, looking up at him honestly. She still looks tired. He feels bad she didn't sleep well. He wonders if she remembers her nightmares. "I'm okay."

He really, really wants that to be true. Since yesterday morning, he's been cursing Jeb and the School and the FBI—who really sends that kind of bombshell to be viewed without any precautionary measures? How did Alana expect someone like Max to react to this information?

How did she imagine anyone would react?

"Time is it?" she asks softly.

Fang looks over his shoulder at the clock on his table. "Six thirty-two," he says vaguely. "No one else is up. Kids need to get moving soon. Haven't even heard Iggy."

Max sits up, suddenly fully awake. She frowns at him, swinging her feet off the bed and reaching for her sweats. "They have school."

She says it so normally, with so much annoyance and sudden energy, Fang has to fight a smirk. To see her flash between tortured and normal is scary, and strange—she's so fragile right now. But the moments where normal shines through are like little buoys of hope in this hurricane and he relishes each one.

He's up and out of bed with her, traveling through the hall. Max loudly knocks on doors, skipping Iggy's—although he's hearing it all anyway.

Max bangs once more on Nudge's door quite urgently, and then the Gasman's door behind her is thrown open.

"Max," Gazzy groans, rubbing his eyes. "Please don't be mad, but I already called us out for the day."

Max's eyes fly wide open. Fang isn't surprised; he had expected this. The kids couldn't bring themselves to go to school in the midst of this crisis, and with the way things were left yesterday in such a fragile, questionable state.

"What?" Max demands angrily.

"We all got sick this weekend," Gazzy shrugs. "Food poisoning. Don't tell Ig that's my excuse."

"You can't call yourself in sick," Max argues.

The look on Gazzy's face is almost laughable. "Max, I just…pretended to be you."

Nudge's door comes open finally, before Max can hand out Gazzy's punishment for impersonating her. It's not the first time, but Fang is sure she's angry the kids directly disobeyed her.

"Hey, this is a good plan," Nudge says calmly. She looks half-awake, but still manages a steady, reasonable voice. "We get a few days to catch up and get on the same page. Then we can go back to normal faster, like you wanted. We just need a moment to figure out what our new normal is."

Max's face softens. She realizes what this means.

It's time to update the others on the case. It's time for everyone to get on the same page, because from here on out, they're in it together.

She sighs, glancing at Fang. She reaches out and ruffles the Gasman's hair, even though he's basically her height. "Fine, sleep in. But not long. It won't be a lazy day."

She looks determined, suddenly. Fang can't quite place it. It's not her usual, confident determination—but it's determination, nonetheless.

Gazzy closes himself back into his room, but Nudge mumbles something about coffee and moves past Fang and Max towards the stairs. Iggy's door flies open and he huffs, looking out blindly into the hall. He's got his handy fabric pouch, and donned over his plaid pajamas are a coat and boots.

"Good morning, what a delight," he grumbles. "Max, tell me, do you get a special joy from using the most triggering method of waking up kids with PTSD?"

"I tell myself, if Iggy wakes up by falling out of bed each morning in a panic, I've done my job right," she snarks back. He grins and heads towards the steps as well. Fang catches Max's eyes and sees her effort in her gaze. Each moment that she pushes for normalcy, she's putting heavy stress on herself. It's obvious to him. She tries so hard for everyone but herself.

Fang's worries are abruptly interrupted by a quick shriek from downstairs.

Nudge.

The next moments are a flurry of adrenaline. The sound is so genuine that even Gazzy erupts from his room again, following Fang and Max downstairs hurriedly. He hears Angel's door opening behind him as he starts down the steps.

"Nudge?"

"Fang?"

"No, it's Iggy," Iggy says slowly, coming up behind Nudge in the dining room. He touches her back gently. "What is it?"

Nudge is standing in the kitchen, room still dark. None of the lights are on yet, and there is only a pinkish light from the sunrise shining in through the windows along the wall to the backyard. As the others join her and Iggy in the dining room, they see the cause of the shriek. Standing there, in the dining room near the hallway to the office is Fang.

A Fang, at least.

His hair is shorter and trimmed. His beard is fuller, grown. His eyes are the exact same. His face, the same. A scar on his neck that Max and Fang both don't immediately recognize. Fang himself feels his own collarbone for it, but doesn't have one. This Fang is wearing a black coat over a dark grey sweatshirt and black jeans. He's standing at the entrance to the hall, and he's slipping a small device into his pocket.

Max is the only one not too frozen to react. She swipes a knife out of the block on the kitchen island as she crosses the rooms to him, holding it up threateningly. She knows what this is, at least she thinks she knows, but this is different. This is in the house.

"Good Lord, Max, I really don't like trying this kind of stuff without a safe word," the other Fang says, crossing his arms as he looks down at the knife pointed at his throat. Max is shaking she is so focused, and she looks both appalled at his joke and shocked to see this happening again, this time with all the others present.

"You guys see him, right? Fang?" Max says reluctantly, casting a quick glance at her Fang. He's frozen behind her, looking quite uncomfortable. He's so affected by seeing himself that he isn't even jumping into a defensive position beside her. She understands the feeling exactly.

"What the fuck is going on?" demands Iggy.

"There's another Fang here," Nudge rushes out, grabbing Iggy's arm. Since Angel is downstairs, too, she is quick to butt in. She quickly works to update Iggy, mentally—painting him a picture of the scene before them. His mouth drops open at the details, at her recount. Two Fangs, simultaneously. He blindly grabs for Fang beside him and latches onto his forearm, squinting slightlessly in the direction of the other Fang, across the room.

Angel steps up beside Max, peering at him inquisitively. She takes barely a moment before looking up at Max and saying seriously, "It's him."

The others erupt in exclamation and swears, clearly floored.

Gazzy exclaims, "Max was right!"

"This is crazy."

"Whoa," Nudge says, her voice low. "He's wearing a ring."

Max grips the knife distractedly, glancing down at his ring finger to see a gold band. She refuses to let that weaken her defense, but she still feels a wave of surprise roll over her. He slyly shifts that hand into his pocket and ignores Nudge's comment. Max chooses to as well.

"How do you know it's him?" Max demands, glancing at Angel.

The foreign Fang grins at her. "I could tell you so many things only we know." He motions to himself and the Fang standing still behind her. Max blushes wildly and points the knife closer.

"How the fuck did you get in here?"

"How do you think?" he deadpans. He holds up the device for a moment, flashing it at her before dropping it out of reach again in his pocket. "Drop the knife, Max, you know it's me."

Max glances down at Angel again, looking for solid confirmation or some kind of signal. Angel frowns, looking at her with a shrug.

"It's him, for sure. It's weird. I can't get all the way in."

"Yep," Future Fang says, looking at his younger self over Max and the knife. "Keep practicing the mind-blocking, it gets easier."

Fang is shocked to hear that. For years that's been an exercise that he's worked on—trying to keep Angel out or keep her away from thoughts he didn't need her exposed to. Negative thoughts, bad memories, personal stuff…regardless, they'd all tried to block her for years.

The best way to keep her out, so far, is to ask her to stay out and hope she listens.

"What are you hiding from her?" Max demands, still brandishing the knife beneath his chin. He rolls his eyes, looking particularly impatient.

"A lot," he says, almost harshly. "Important stuff none of you can know yet. We're trying to do this and simultaneously not ruin our own lives. Or make any grave changes to our futures."

"How would you even know if you did change it?" Gazzy points out from behind Fang, looking at the new Fang with wild interest and wonder. "How is this even possible?"

The new Fang looks even more impatient, with a glimmer of sympathy. Max assumes this is because he remembers exactly how mind-boggling all of this feels. What an insane loop.

"We can't do this right now. Don't fucking stab me, Max, I'm serious." The way his voice sounds…its uncanny. Max is startled by all of it, and she realizes that it's ridiculous to point the knife at Fang. If the other Max was really her….then this is Fang. She drops the knife away from him and steps back a full few steps, mind spinning.

"What are you trying to do?"

He scowls at her silently. He looks disturbed. The rest of the room—well, the entire house is silent as he hesitates to respond.

"I thought I knew. Things have changed. We have a plan… I just had to do a test run, too."

Max swallows. She knows all about her own test run. Still she questions, "What do you mean?"

"Max and I both need to know how to do it," he says seriously. He glances behind her and shrugs. "Sorry, the rest of you don't get to go time-hopping. Especially for this, knowing what we know now."

Well, Max is floored. She has even more questions, now. She knows the others are so fully mind-blown. She and Fang hadn't discussed the time travel stuff after their heavy chat about her near-death drop. She knows he didn't believe her. Now he doesn't really have a choice.

"Okay, well, you're not leaving until you answer a few questions," Max says solidly, crossing her arms.

Future Fang shrugs at her, not looking the least bit worried. "Actually, that's not true. You're about to be busy, and I need to be getting back. I'll tell you one thing. Jeb's not after the Flock."

"How do you know?" It's Iggy who asks, his voice solid despite the crazy unraveling around him.

Fang still hasn't moved or spoken. He's just staring at his other self, looking quite green.

Future Fang responds lowly, but it isn't really an answer. "Just have to trust me."

Almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, the front alarm starts to beep. The driveway alarm. Someone is here.

Future Fang doesn't look concerned, but he pulls the device from his pocket. He glances around and lands on Max, looking at her levelly. "It's gonna be okay."

He clicks the device and in a second, he's gone.

With so much happening at once, the next few moments are spent standing completely still. Max is the first to break out of it. She moves towards the front of the house, compartmentalizing everything else to focus on the alarm that is going off. She checks the displays and peers outside, noticing a sleek black sedan rolling down the drive.

"We have company," she reports lowly, turning off the alarm and letting the blinds draw closed once more. "Angel?"

She tilts her head, closing her eyes. After a moment of fishing, Angel offers, "Alana?"

Max frowns, looking deeply upset by that.

"Fuck, I forgot." She looks around a moment, patting her pockets. "Where's my phone?"

Angel heads down the hall to go get it, untouched from the day before in the office. Max glances over her shoulder, seeing the others still standing relatively in the same places they started, still in shock. She huffs.

"We need to put all that aside right now, we have to deal with Alana. Guys? Fang."

Fang looks at her, his face twisted in pain. He opens his mouth to say something to her, but then his face twists in discomfort and he moves slowly but purposefully down the hall without a word. Max hears the bathroom door shut, and then just the muffled sound of retching.

She winces. She knows how that feels, too.

She meets Gazzy's bewildered gaze but says nothing. There's no time.

Angel returns with her phone. Three more messages from yesterday, all worried inquiries from Alana at her personal number. Max gives one last glance around at the kids. They're in shock, sure. Naturally. Hopefully they can hold themselves together.

"If you can't deal right now, please go to your room. I don't want her to know what's going on with the time travel, okay?"

Gazzy bolts up the stairs back to his room immediately at her ultimatum. Nudge gives Max a look, like, Are you sure that's a good idea?

Max ignores her and turns to peer outside once more. Sure enough, Alana is climbing out of the driver's side of the sedan. She's alone and carrying a large brown briefcase.

Max frowns to herself, remembering all the messages from Alana that have gone unanswered. She's not surprised to see her here, but it's still unnerving and she still can't stand to let her guard down right now—or attempt to have a genuine conversation with Alana about how all this feels. She curses herself a few more times for not responding levelly last night to prevent this sudden wellness check. She guesses she deserves it.

Shaky and still reeling, Max moves to open the door and deal with what comes next.