This is the long awaited (well, at least for me, anyway) finale for Spy Ride. Since I really went into detail with earlier parts, and have discovered that I like quick time-travel, I am using it now. All wll explain itself soon enough.
Max's POV
It has been 7 years, and I have been (well, not happily) mutually married to the Director's son, Omega. He and I know that each of us are not in love with each other, and we understand. I am desperately in love with Fang, who has long since escaped from this horrid "facility" and Omega's lover-whom I discovered the identify of a few years ago, was a red-headed girl he'd met years prior, a girl names Lissa. At least I think he loves her. I'm 22, and he's 24, and we're living together, in the same house, but not living together, just in our own worlds, when we come together for an hour a day, in the evenings, at dinner, and air our grievances, like two good friends. We just happen to be married to each other.
The Director had died many years ago, grandchildless, to his added despair; his son, having absolutely no interest in the prospect, gave the business to a friend of the Director's. We stayed carefully away from the business and stay safe from it as well. I sit here, the midnight moon shining on my tear-streaked face. I blink heavily, trying to shoo away my unwanted tears, but they still flooded freely from my dry eyes. I sat in a ball, on a windowsill, alone, even though my husband slept silently in the soft, warm linen sheets.
But here, in this ever-so physically lonely windowsill, could I truly be with Fang, in mind and in soul, happy and carefree, feeling his ghostly arms around me. Here, where I could be free, on this cold and drafty sill. I smile gently to the moon, feeling my tears stick to my face, making the skin almost stiff. And I knew, with a pang deep in my heart that I don't want to sit here. I want to feel Fang's real, wiry, warm arms around me, to feel his hot breath fan on my neck. That is what I must have. And it I will, or I will die in search of him.
I slid into the warm arms of Omega, and whispered, very quietly, but intently, "Forgive me for what I will do." And I felt his arms tighten around my waist, and his strong chin bury itself into my neck. His breathing was tight. I knew he heard, and he knew that I knew. I stayed like this for a few hours, until, exhausted, I fell asleep around 4 a.m. I knew, not for a minute, that Omega let his powerful grip fall.
Omega's POV
I heard, distinctly, Max's words, almost a sigh, and it wrenched my heart.
Forgive me for what I will do…
It would be so very selfish of me to keep her here, locked up in this cage, literally like a bird, and I held onto her for what I dreaded to be the last time. I could not keep her. She will find him-I sensed she was going to break. 7 years is a long time for an unsuppressed, separated love, but even longer for my suppressed, nearby love. But neither of us was given any slack. I held onto her, and for one night, would never let her go.
Max's POV
The next day is a blur, starting with me prying myself from Omega's grip, and me, now kneeling in front of an empty crate, which used to hold my dark-winged love. I don't even remember much about my arrival, just a bunch of pain in my heart and the nodding of obedient experiments. Now the cage was cold and unused, and I felt myself begin to shut down. Until I felt a brush on my back, and the strolling figure of a passerby, a whitecoat. A piece of paper read Meet me at the cave-the one with all of that read dust. I give you 10 years after your 15th birthday. Please don't make me wait that long. –Fang
I shoved the paper into my pocket and burst out of the School, not caring if I was conspicuous or not, and burst into the air, wings finally stretching out fully, getting accustomed to flight after virtually no use for 7 years. I used my hyper speed, glad that I didn't immediately fall out of the sky. Before I could even stop and breathe, or perhaps think, I ran into the cave, the sunsets orange tones illuminating the cave blood red.
Fang was suddenly standing, and I saw he was even more handsome than the figment of my imagination, and I knew he saw me the same way, and our embrace, of denied love and full of passion, is the last image painted for you.
The rest of our happily ever after will be the figment of your imagination.
Please give me your last opinions of the final chapter! It won't have a sequal. I think. I don't really know anymore. Please review. Please. It is my last request. (And for some reason, with the "final chapter" thing, I keep hearing "The Final Countdown" by Europe in my head. It might help the ending of a story seem less sad. (It does to me...)
Au Revoir!