Okay peoples, mesa so sorry I haven't updated in awhile. I was having some writer's block (I seem to have that a lot) but then last night I just randomly reread this and started on this chapter, and I seriously think I did pretty well! I took a few of your suggestions (though I don't think they were really meant to be suggestions) and put them in. On the matter of who the guy is, well you're just going to have to figure that out on your own. My lips are ceiled. R&R!

Chapter 4

Back at the hospital Fang was back in Max's room, worry and fear spreading through his entire being. He could only image what they would do to her if they caught her. He had tried to go after her, but he was out of practice with flying, and if he left he would be open for any of the Erasers to nab him, and then he wouldn't be any help to Kismet. He could only hope that she was okay.

"F-F-Fang?" a weak, quiet voice whispered. Fang's eyes snapped down to the white, sickly form below him.

"Max?" he gasped; pure joy glowing in his eyes. He reached down and gave her a soft, yet passionate kiss. "Oh god, I thought you'd never wake up!" he whispered.

The pail woman looked up at him with brown eyes Fang hadn't seen for twelve years now. He had missed them so much. He had missed her so much.

"Fang, what happened?" she whispered weakly, something she wasn't used to. She was Maximum Ride, not some weak girl with cancer.

Fang took her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing them softly. "You fell into a coma after the surgery. They managed to make a cure for cancer, all thanks to you. They got the tumor out of you, and it hasn't come back, so you're cancer free now." He gave her a sad smile.

Max studied him, taking in his appearance. "You look different. Older. How long was I out?"

There was a lump in Fang's throat and he looked down, clutching her hand tightly before looking back up at her. "Twelve years."

The look on her face was far beyond shocked. She had lost twelve years to her life, and all because of cancer. She kept back her tears and looked around the room. Suddenly a thought dawned on her.

"Fang, where's Kismet?"

Fang took a deep breath, unsure of how to tell her only moment after she woke up that her daughter could easily be in the School right at that very moment. He wasn't sure, however, if she was. She could have gotten away.

"I don't know."

-With Kismet-

The two hadn't said a word to each other after her agreement to help the boy out, and they were currently flying in some random direction. Kismet, not one who liked silence very much, glanced over at him.

"You never did tell me your name." she called.

Kismet and the boy's eyes met for a moment before he looked back ahead. "It's Jagger."

She nodded and the silence enveloped them once again. She wondered vagely if their whole time in each other's presence would be spent in total silence. If so she might just call it quits, because she was not about to stay around someone who never spoke. He had defiantly spoke to her before they set off. He wouldn't shut up! But now? Oh no, now he wouldn't open his damn mouth! She sent him a dirty look, thinking that their relationship was having a horrible beginning.

"So are we going to be quiet all the time, or just right now?" she questioned bitterly.

Jagger glanced over at her with a small smirk on his lips. "I take it you don't like the wonderful concept of silence."

"I don't mind it." She glanced down at her watch, "Two hours and twenty-two of constant silence, however, is too much."

He laughed at that, shaking his head. "You've actually been keeping track?"

She shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Well, there's nothing else to do, is there?"

"No, I suppose not." He mused, and the silence came again.

Kismet looked at the boy, studying his features. His skin was a dark olive color, and he had ebony colored hair that was slightly curly and went down to his mid-neck. She had noticed earlier, when they had been standing, that he was probably about 6'2" and he was muscular, thought not grossly so. Actually, it was hardly even noticeable, but the muscle was there. He looked to be about sixteen, seventeen at the oldest, and his wings—oh his wings! They were the most beautiful things Kismet had ever seen. They weren't dark like hers, but they weren't white like Aunt Angel's either. They were a golden brown color, like a marshmallow cooked perfect over a fire, with darker feathers sprinkled about, along with a few white ones. They seemed to glow as the light shone down on them. His wingspan had to be at least a good 15ft at the least. Compared to her with her 5'5" height and 13ft wingspan she felt absolutely small.

She lastly looked at his eyes. They were dark sapphire blue, bright like a jewel as they scanned the ground below. She seemed to almost loose herself in them and their never-ending depths. She shook herself out of the trance and quickly looked away when their eyes connected. She felt her cheeks growing warm from being caught. She heard a chuckle over the sound of wind flying past her ears and her blush increased. She would never admit that she had been staring if anyone ever asked.

She shook her head in the wind, throwing her hair away from her face as she breathed in the fresh air. Memories she couldn't decipher washed through her head. She could feel the wind blowing against her from years earlier, feeling the warmth of loving arms around her, and she wondered, had it been her mother? And would her mother ever wake up? And if her mother did, would she even be alive long enough to meet her, or would this adventure be her first and last?