A/N: There's like one cuss word in this chapter. Also, the moment you've all probably been waiting for.

We drive a long hour outside the city before we even start to look for a place to stop. Dallas is a big enough city that we'd have to drive pretty far before getting out of the 'burbs, so I tell James to stop at the first public park we pass. It happens to be on the coast of what looks like a giant lake, and, lucky us, the park is a big one.

"They have hiking trails. Should we follow one of them and turn off at some point?" Nathan asks.

I shake my head. My chest burns from the effort of holding back an hour's worth of coughing fits. "It's off season, so we shouldn't see many people." That reminds me, "And we've gotta get you cleaned up. With sterile water."

Nathan shrugs. "I'm not the one who looks like they walked off a zombie movie set." He has a little blood on the hem of his shirt and in his hair, but otherwise looks like your typical outdoorsy, gutsy eight-year-old.

Me, on the other hand.

"I want to look at that gash on your arm," James says from the front. He parks the car in the furthest campsite from the entrance to the park. "And check for a concussion."

I climb out of the car the second it's stopped moving, grateful for the fresh air. It eases my aching lungs a little. I'm less grateful for the way my joints protest me stretching them. With a grimace, I brace myself against the side of the car when the world tilts slightly. "No need, I have a concussion."

James shuts the car door behind himself. "How could you—"

"Poor balance, ringing in the ears, headache—" I realize I'm squinting, "—and sensitivity to light. That's enough."

James frowns. "What about nausea? Difficulty concentrating?"

"Trust me, I know a concussion when I feel it."

Nick rolls down his window—it's a manual, which I thought had gone out of style about a decade ago—to frown at me. "Then sit down before you pass out on us."

I roll my eyes. "Come out here and make me." But I have to admit it's sound advice, so make my way toward a patch of soft-looking sand in the shade.

Nick turns to James. "Isn't irritability another symptom of a concussion?"

James doesn't respond with the joviality I would have expected. His brow furrows. "This is serious Nick."

Nathan pops out of the car with all the energy of a squirrel on sugar. "We're going back right? To find my sister?"

Nick and James look at me surreptitiously, averting their eyes if I try to make eye contact. Nathan's been babbling about what he'll do when he finds his sister for the entire trip here, and nobody has had the heart to tell him what a stupid idea it is to travel back into the city and start poking around. We told him we'd get him to Texas, but we promised to keep him safe, and going back is the opposite of that.

Nathan senses our hesitance and his face falls. "You're kidding, right? She's right there! We're so close!" His face contorts with all of the anger and frustration he must have been feeling all these weeks on the run. "We've come all this way and you want to give up just like that?"

I sigh. "Nathan, you know it's more complicated than that."

"No!"

I almost jump at the volume he uses. Gazzy never yells at people, much less me. I set my jaw, ready to snap back at him, but James interrupts. "Nathan, we can't do anything looking like this. Why don't you go start to clean up and we'll talk about it?"

Nathan clenches his fists. "I know what that means."

"We haven't made any decisions yet," Nick says. He puts a hand over his shoulder and starts to guide him toward the water spout. "Let's go."

Nathan scowls but leaves. Nick looks over his shoulder at James and me, something heated in his gaze. I raise an eyebrow at him in confusion, but he just subtly shakes his head and follows Nathan.

"What was that about?" I wonder out loud, once Nick's out of easy earshot. Not that I think for one second he isn't straining to hear every word that's being said.

James watches Nick's back scornfully, which again is weird. "I don't know. Maybe he's just moody."

I know teenage angst, and that was something different. There's clearly something going on between Nick and James. I decide to bide my time until I can figure out what. "Can we get this over with?"

James nods and starts a basic physical examination like a pro. It helps that doing one every day for the first eight years of my life means I know the protocol better than most medical professionals.

"Are you sure this doesn't hurt?" James asks a few minutes later, carefully palpating the large knot he tells me is on my forehead.

"Nope, not a bit."

"Uh-huh." Clearly not buying it but not calling me out yet. "Put your arms—yeah. Push up."

"Ow."

He stops. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

I meet him with a lopsided grin. "I'm kidding." I push up again and easily knock him off balance.

It turns out to be a bad decision, because the dust that the fall kicks up sticks in the back of my throat and triggers a gag reflex, which quickly turns into another fit of coughing. I mask whatever might be coming out of my mouth by aiming into the collar of my windbreaker.

James's brow furrows as he sits up again. "That doesn't sound good. Are you getting anything out?"

I shake my head, once my coughing has subsided to heavy mouth breathing that tickles the back of my throat and burns my lungs. "I think I'm getting sick."

"I thought you couldn't get sick?"

I shrug half-heartedly. "New universe, new illnesses?" Another blip of coughs follows. I scrunch my nose. "Ugh, I hate this."

"It should go away after another day or two." He tilts his head to the side, smiling a little. "Now you're officially initiated into our universe. Congratulations."

I eye him from where I've hidden my face between my knees and crossed arms. "No thanks." Except he isn't looking at me, he's eyeing Nick and Nathan.

That's it. "What's wrong?"

James stiffens, "Nothing." He glances over his shoulder back at Nick again. It's quick but not nearly as subtle as he thinks it is.

"Uh-huh." I cross my arms. "What's going on between you two?"

"Who?"

I just raise my eyebrows.

James checks over his shoulder again. Nick is looking back at us suspiciously, then Nathan comes up behind him and empties a bottle of water on him, effectively breaking his concentration and balance in one fell swoop. Deciding he's distracted enough, James turns back toward me and leans in, voice low. "There's something I think I should tell you."

I lean in, too. "Well?"

He hesitates only a moment before starting. "When you and Nathan were captured, Nick and I found—"

"Max! Help!"

I look up in time to catch a sopping-wet Nathan as he barrels into me. "Oof." Nick is close behind, holding a full water bottle. I glare at him over Nathan's head. "I dare you."

A wicked grin spreads across his face, and I can practically see horns sprouting. He shrugs, and next thing I know there's ice cold water streaming down my face into my lap and onto Nathan.

"Nick!" I shriek.

James rises to his feet. "Stop."

Nick squares his shoulders. "Chill, man."

I frown. "Yeah, James, it was just a joke. I'm fine." Wet and cold, but fine.

Something in James' face tightens. "Can I talk to you? Alone?" he asks Nick.

Nick glances down to me, still cradling a sopping wet, shivering Nathan in my lap. I don't think I hide my suspicion well, judging by the expression he makes. He jerks his chin in the direction of the car. "Yeah."

They head over with heavy footfalls and tense backs.

When the car doors have closed behind them, Nathan whispers, "What's up with them?"

"It's not just me?" Good, I had thought I was reading too much into things. Bros being bros, you know?

"They've been weird. Quiet."

"Yeah." I start wiping at the water on my skin. It's cool in the summer heat and has the added bonus of washing away some of the dried blood. After a minute, I venture, "How're you holding up?"

Nathan takes a shaky breath and slips out of my lap. "I miss Angie."

I bite my lip. "You understand why we can't go back."

He huffs. "Yes! I'm not stupid!" That gets a look from James through the car window. Nathan lowers his voice again. "It's just. . . she's right there, you know?"

"Yeah. I know."

He must hear the heaviness in my voice because Nathan looks up from his lap, eyes wide. "Sorry, Max. I forgot."

I offer a smile. "It's fine." It's not, but that's what you say when you're stuck in an alternate universe with the happier versions of your dysfunctional family. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Nathan nods.

"I wish we could get her, too."

"You think she's like Angel?"

I hold up a hand. "This tall, blonde curls, big blue eyes, uses her cuteness to manipulate people into getting her things?"

Nathan snorts. "Yep, that's her." His face falls. "Wishes are useless, though."

"Why do you say that?"

"I used to wish every night that I would get to see her again. And here I am, but—Max?"

My mind is a thousand miles away.

Wish.

"You wished? On a star?"

Nathan shrugs. "I know it's stupid, but yeah? On the first star of the night. Or a shooting star, when I saw one."

Holy crabapples. "It's impossible."

"What?" Nathan peers up at me. "Should I get James? Is it your concussion?"

I shake my head, eyes unfocused. "No. I made a wish, too."

Nathan looks confused. "It's just a game. It doesn't mean anything."

I focus my eyes on him, excitement and dread building in my gut. "Nathan, I wished that the School had never existed. And then I woke up here, and it's like the Flock disappeared, but it didn't because there's you and Nick and James and the Erasers don't exist. . . " my voice fades out as I realize something. "That means this is my own fault."

Nathan studies me. Searches my eyes. "I'm going to go get James, okay? Just sit tight—" He stands, and I pull him back down.

"Wait. Just hear me out."

He hesitates, looking at the car. Nick and James's voices drift over, fraught with tension and raised a little louder than they should be. I make a mental note to deal with whatever that is when this conversation is over.

Nathan sighs, sitting back down. "I thought we decided you were sucked into an alternate universe."

"I know, I know. But this is too much of a coincidence, right?"

Nathan stares at the ground, considering. "I guess," he hedges.

I know he's not really on board, but my mind is running a mile a minute and it feels too right to be wrong. "So I'm not looking for a wormhole or anything. I'm looking for a way to reverse a wish." My legs, which had begun to bounce in excitement, abruptly stop. "How do I do that?"

Nathan shrugs. "I don't think it works like that. Everybody always makes a second wish."

"Okay, I can work with that." Carefully, I lean back, propping myself up on bruised elbows so I can stare at the sky. "If this works, I get to go home."

Nathan is silent, picking at the tuft of grass by his feet.

I frown. "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head. "It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

He can't meet my eyes. His hands tighten, pulling some of the dry strands out of the ground. "When you leave, what happens to us?"

Oh.

I take in our ragtag team: a gang boss, an aspiring doctor, and a foster kid, all of whom I've managed to uproot. A bunch of tumbleweeds trying not to get caught in a prairie fire. Nick will have to stay on the run. James should go back to school—if there's anything left of it—and continue a normal life. Nathan, though. . .

"Tell you what."

Nathan finally looks back at me again.

"We're going to go see your sister."

"She needs to know."

James has his feet propped on the dashboard in a show of fake casualness. The map he and Nick found under the cupholders rests across his lap and between his tense hands.

Nick, in the driver's seat, doesn't bother trying to hide his anger. "She has enough on her plate as it is. If she decides she wants to take it down—"

"You don't know that she'll do that."

Nick laughs humorlessly. "Are you kidding me? She's too compassionate for her own good. She would save the whole world if she knew how. It's practically a hero complex."

James' lips press into a hard, flat line. The map in his hands wrinkles under his tight grip. It hadn't taken rocket science to use the notebooks and map to figure out that the giant organization was run by somebody called Mother based in southern California.

"You're telling me we can't trust this information with police or the media. Unless you have a direct phone line to the FBI, Max is our best option for taking these people down. If anybody could do it, she could."

"No." Nick's demeanor takes on something stormy. James wonders if it is the same façade he uses when encountering rival gangs. "Telling her would be sending her on a suicide mission."

"You act like she's stupid!" James realizes his voice has jumped up an octave and forces himself to lower it to match Nick's. "Max is a leader. She can make her own decisions."

"If you tell her, I'm leaving."

James scoffs. "Doubt it. With this thing you have going on with her—"

"There is no 'thing!'"

James plants his feet back on the ground in exasperation, all pretense of calm gone. "Wake up, Nick! How do you see this playing out? The four of us spend the rest of our lives on the run while some big secret organization takes over the world? You want to have a little island to yourself with Max where you can sip on coconut milk and honey all day and watch the world burn?"

Nick's ears are red. "I don't want to die!"

"Neither do I!" James is too loud, he knows. He doesn't care. "You're threatening to leave? You're afraid of telling Max because then she'll realize what a selfish prick you really are!"

"You're calling me selfish? Mister I'm-going-to-be-a-doctor? Mister let's-tell-the-news-and-the-police-and-get-famous? You're just as bad as Max, except your head is stuck so high up your ass you still haven't realized that you were never supposed to be here!"

"That is not what I said!"

"Oh, don't start being humble now."

James opens his mouth to retort, but notices that Max and Nathan are finished with whatever conversation they had been having. They are both looking toward the car. So he takes what is supposed to be a calming, deep breath. It sounds more like a silent, angry growl.

"I won't tell her."

Nick's chest rises and falls in relief that he doesn't show on his face. "Glad you're finally seeing reason."

James points a finger at him. "You will."

Nick frowns. "No."

They sit in tense silence. Outside, Max is using the damp hem of her shirt to gently clean the blood out of Nathan's hair. James doesn't know what had transpired between the two, but they both look content.

He hates the possibility of ruining that. But, "Max isn't stupid. She's going to find out sooner or later." He folds the map up and hands it back to Nick. "It will be better coming from you."

Nick tucks the map back under the cupholders.

James sighes. "The ball is in your field, Nick. I hope you make the right decision."

It takes a few minutes for the boys to emerge from the car, and when they do I have the suspicion that whatever they had been talking about didn't help to defuse the tension between them. James leaves first, shutting the door firmly behind himself. Nick waits a few minutes before slinking out behind him.

I don't bother beating around the bush. "We're going back into Dallas."

They have the decency to look shocked at my decision. Nick is the first to speak. "Why?"

"To find Nathan's sister."

"I distinctly remember us deciding not to do that."

"We said 'maybe.'"

Nick, James, and Nathan all give me incredulous looks.

"Okay, so we said no. But I changed my mind. This could be important."

"We'll be caught. They've got to be looking for us by now," James says.

I shrug. "I won't go. But James, you aren't too obvious. You pass for normal."

"Thanks?"

I softly nudge Nathan's back. "Take Nathan with you. Look for an agency or something." Looking at the kid's dirty jeans and bloody shirt, I tack on, "Grab him a change of clothes on the way."

James levels a look at me. "I'm not comfortable stealing."

I shrug. "There are usually clothes donations in big cities like this."

"Or use the five-finger discount," Nick chimes in. When he sees me pull a face, he continues, "You literally stole from a hospital not two weeks ago."

I shrug. "Fine. James, look for a souvenir shop. They usually have jackets and stuff outside the store you can lift easily if you're fast."

Nathan's been quiet. James notices, and puts a hand on his shoulder, crouching down to his height so he can look him in the eye. "Hey, you are supposed to be happier about this."

"I forgot until now, but I left her present in the barn."

I roll my eyes. "She's going to explode from happiness at just seeing you. You have nothing to worry about."

"You think so?" He looks up shyly through his lashes, and I resist the urge to snort.

"I can see the family resemblance."

Nathan's face scrunches up and he sticks his tongue out. He's obviously over his momentary funk. I can practically see the excitement starting to buzz through his blood. "James! I'll beat you to the car!"

James huffs a laugh. "Yeah, right, pipsqueak!" He gives him a good-hearted hair ruffle as he passes.

Nick watches me as they get in, one eyebrow raised. His jaw is still tense. There's still something. . . off, between him and James.

"We'll meet you guys back here before sundown," James says, shooting fingerguns in our direction. "And Nick. . . " he seems lost for words when met by the other boy's dark look. He recovers quickly with, "Keep Max resting up. No adventures until she can stand without fainting."

The rock next to me looks the perfect size to chuck at a head.

Before Nick can reply, Nathan announces, "I'm sitting up front!"

We watch them pull away from the site and then around the corner, out of sight.

Nick sits down next to me. "That was a stupid decision."

"Yeah." I shrug. "But, worse-case scenario, James and Nathan are picked up by authorities. They lie about escaping their kidnappers and are sent home."

"No, worse-case, Nathan is recognized by one of Them and he and James are never seen again."

There's ice in my gut, but I shake my head. "There are too many witnesses here. They won't try anything in such a public space."

Nick hums a 'maybe.' He leans back and props himself up on his hands.

"What is going on between you and James?" I ask.

Nick isn't stupid enough to try and hide it. "We disagree about something."

I roll my eyes. "That much was obvious." After a beat of silence, I push, "I'm not going to ask because you're going to tell me."

Nick huffs. "What are you going to do? Ground me?"

I put on my best mom face. "Don't make me count to three." His laugh is more genuine this time, but he still shakes his head. "Please, Nick. Tell me what's going on."

He takes a deep breath, head tilting back to look at the tree above us. "Fine." His eyes cut back to me briefly. "But you can't tell him I told you anything. He'll be upset."

Something about that seems wrong to me, but I nod. I'll deal with it later, when it doesn't hurt so much to breathe.

"When we were going after you and Nathan, James and I searched the car. We found a radio, and we could hear conversations people were having." He shifts uncomfortably. "They know, Max. About your wings."

Oh.

Some part of me knew. They had to know; they had found me with my wings out. I just hadn't realized word would spread so fast. I swallow, hands tensing into fists where they rest by my sides.

"James was worried it would stress you out too much. He though you couldn't handle knowing, because of. . . the stuff you told us." He looks back to me, searching my face. "But I know that you're strong."

I nod absentmindedly, not able to bring myself to make eye contact. "Thanks for telling me." I inhale deeply, trying to calm my racing heart. "This. . . " I release the air, "complicates things." I'm an even bigger target now. A kid with wings, who has managed to kick everyone's butt for at least three weeks? Just when I thought I didn't have to worry about the School, somebody else has probably decided they want me as their weapon.

I don't realize my hands are shaking until Nick's hand, still propping himself up, nudges mine. "Hey, Max." My focus zips back to him. "It's going to be okay, we've got this." His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, and he looks down at it. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Despite myself, I snort. "Really? I thought you knew me better, Nick." I don't move my hand away.

He cracks a grin. "I knew it would pull you out of your downward spiral. It worked, didn't it?"

I elbow him softly, but can't deny how much lighter I feel. Nick grins, ducking his chin. His fingers brush my hand again, coaxing it out of a fist, and then our fingers are interlocked.

I bite my tongue, looking away from Nick, toward the lake. It's calm, deserted on a school day except for a few ducks. There's a constant cool breeze rolling in off the lake, ruffling the mangled feathers in my wings. I ignore the feeling until a particularly hard gust has my wings instinctually twitch in response. I can help the gasp that escapes when pain lances up the joints.

Nick stiffens next to me. "You wings." He releases my hand so he can face me more squarely, running fingers carefully across my feathers. His face is grim. "How bad?"

I start to open them too fast, and the stretch is enough I want to start coughing again, but I swallow it down with a will of steel. Carefully, so as not to wrench the sore ligaments and tendons inside, I try again. They stretch until I can see them on either side of myself.

There are feathers missing, and those that remain are speckled with dirt and blood and rest askew against my skin. No wonder they feel so terrible. I bend my right wing closer to myself and begin preening.

I haven't had to preen for a long time; our wings are mostly self-sufficient. We don't have to add oil or anything to keep them working properly. The last time I remember doing anything similar was when Angel was molting, and that was mostly showing her how to do it comfortably.

I brush dirt and gravel and small twigs from underneath the feathers and reverently place them so they lie flat against my skin again. I've worked about halfway down my secondary coverts when Nick clears his throat behind me.

I look back at him, my embarrassment probably clear in my red cheeks. Preening one of the few things I have to do that really pushes the boundaries between human and bird. "Sorry, I know it's weird—"

He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tilting up into the hint of a shy smile. "Show me?"

All this blood rushing to my face cannot be good for my blood pressure. I manage to keep an even voice when I reply, "Sure."

I stretch out my left wing a bit more, within his reach. "Start at the top here, with the smaller feathers." I show him the pattern I use, the movement to clean the feathers and adjust them without pulling too hard or making anything worse. When I've finished one section, my hands falter. "And that's—that's it."

Nick is looking at me more intensely than I've ever seen before, but it's a soft kind of intense. The kind that makes me want to melt. It's the face I see on Fang when he thinks I'm not looking.

He blinks once, and his eyes reign whatever it was back in. He reaches a hand out questioningly, then pauses. "May I?"

I nod, not confident my voice will hold.

His touch is softer than I would have imagined, his hands so familiar but so different than Fang's at the same time. He doesn't have the scars of IV ports ripped out or the hard callouses of gathering firewood. But his fingers brush down my secondary feathers with the care somebody would handle ancient glass. A shiver runs down my spine, surprising me and pushing more heat to my face.

Nick pretends not to notice, concentrating intently on his work. I turn away to focus on my other wing before I can make more of a fool of myself.

We work almost an hour in pleasant silence. When Nick reaches the end of my left wing, he shifts back so he can begin preening the back of it. I freeze at the first sweep of his fingers, at the sensitive junction where my wings meet my back.

He senses it and stops abruptly, "Sorry."

I'm glad he's behind me so he can't see the heat rising to my face again. "'S'fine." I run out of wing on the inside so start doing what I can blind on the back side of my right wing.

Nick corrects a few feathers around my back, then his hands falter. "Hey, Max?"

I keep my fingers busy, trying to distract myself from how close he is. "Yeah?"

"I would really like to kiss you right now."

My hands falter. I take a moment, looking out over the lake. I can feel Nick shifting nervously behind me. "Yeah?" My voice is higher than normal.

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

I bite my lip, fighting back the smile spreading across my face. I look over my shoulder at him, and I'm sure he can see in my face what I'm going to say because he lights up. I study his olive skin, his messy black hair, his brown eyes. His mouth.

"What's stopping you?"

He leans in and kisses me.