I feel like updating, and so here is an update. FYI, if you read DSOA, I'm behind, and I'm gonna be busy for the next couple days, so that will probably be updated next on Tuesday.

I awoke the next morning at Gazzy's confused voice. "What are they doing?"

"Well," said a tired Iggy from somewhere else in the room, "I would tell you, but I can't see what they're doing. Who is they, anyway?"

I twisted around, casting a glance over my shoulder. The Gasman was standing behind me. "Have Iggy make you breakfast."

"What if I don't wanna make him breakfast?" Iggy asked, just to be argumentative. "And why are you in here?"

I looked down at Gracie, then at Devin and Fang: we had awaken all of them with our conversation. "The kids had a bad dream again, and they wanted to stay in here with Fang."

"Whatever," Iggy yawned. "Let's go, Gaz."

They left, and I thought how lucky we were to get out of that without Iggy making a dirty joke. Then I felt some tugging on my arm and realized Fang was still holding my hand, and the kids were crawling out from under our arms. I tried to pull my hand away, but Fang held on to it.

"We're gonna go eat," Gracie said, hopping off the bed.

"Me too," Devin agreed, following her. They toddled out of the room, and I started to get out of bed, but again, Fang refused to let go of my hand.

"Fang, what the heck?" I demanded, laying back down because he was forcing me to. "Let me go."

"We have to talk about their dreams," he said.

"Now?"

"That's what you said." Fang shrugged. "You said first thing tomorrow. It's tomorrow, Max."

I scowled, hating that he was using my own words against me but knowing he was right. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk about it, anyway. "Could you at least…" I looked pointedly at our hands, resting between us on the bed.

"No, I like this," he said, smirking at me. And then, to my absolute horror, he pulled me closer until we were only about six inches apart on the bed. When I tried to wriggle away, he locked his arm around my waist, holding me to him. "Come on, Max. Can't we just talk about our kids' safety without it having to be a big deal?"

"We could," I shot back, "if you would--"

"Okay, cool. So what do you think is going on with them?"

I gave in, relaxing against Fang and even letting my head loll against his chest. He was warm in the otherwise chilled room…

Shut up, Max, I scolded myself. Answer the question. "I think it's definitely suspicious," I said, speaking into Fang's black shirt. His heartbeat was thudding in my ear, and I found myself leaning closer, wanting to hear it, just to know he was alive. "But I really don't know what to do."

"Well, running's not going to help," he said, holding me even tighter. I wasn't sure what we were doing, why I wasn't pushing him away. Maybe it was too early in the morning for my brain to really process this. But it did register that we were cuddling. And I was enjoying it. Imagine that.

"That's what I was thinking," I said. "I guess all we can really do is wait it out." We didn't have a lot of options; we really had to stay in hiding. I didn't like the idea of sitting around, not taking action, but it was the only think to do.

"Okay," Fang said, unwinding his arms from around me, first to my disappointment then to my horror at realizing I was disappointed. "We'll stay here."

0000000000

"Fang? Max?" Nudge's frantic voice floated into the kitchen, where Fang and I were bored out of our minds while we played with our kids. Her footsteps kept pounding down the hall outside, and a moment later, she burst through the door. "Guys, guys, there's this, like, this thing--"

"Nudge, calm down," I said, releasing the plastic horse I was holding and standing up. "What's wrong?"

"Go look on TV!" she exclaimed, pointing in that direction, her eyes wide. "It's bad, it's really bad!"

Fang and I exchanged a glance, then he told Nudge to watch Gracie and Devin while we checked out whatever was on TV. We hurried down the hall to the living room and found the rest of the flock there, all intently watching-- or in Iggy's case, listening to-- the five o' clock news.

The first thing I saw was Jeb on the screen, what appeared to be a neighborhood behind him. He had dark bags under his eyes, and he looked exhausted. The second thing I noticed were the words stretching along the bottom of the screen: INFAMOUS BIRD KIDS HAVE GONE MISSING.

"They're such good kids," he was saying, sniffling. "I don't know why anybody would want to hurt them. They may have grown up in a cruel environment, but it was for their own good. I love each of them so much and I'm just praying for their safe return.

"We would like a chance to study the two most successful reproduction experiments the company has ever known. Those two experiments alone could help us breed many more cross-species that would be beneficial to society. We don't want to hurt them, though. We want to help them recreate their lives after all the trouble they've gone through."

"No you don't." I was already seething at the TV by the time I realized I was doing it, but I didn't stop. My rage was wild. I was unable to believe that my own father was on TV, making the fact that he wanted to use my children as lab rats sound like a perfectly good cause. "You don't care about us. You only care about your stupid world domination scheme! Cut the crap, Jeb! Stop the fake crying and just get the hell out of our lives!"

By the time I finished, angry tears were rolling down my face, and everyone was looking at me-- even Nudge, who had heard the racket and come in from the kitchen. I stood there, breathing heavily, clenching and unclenching my fists, afraid that if I didn't somehow keep my hands occupied, I'd punch something.

Jeb was off the screen now, the newscast moving on to that weekend's weather. The flock seemed afraid to speak, as if one syllable would make me explode again. It might have, too, had Fang not come up behind me and gently took my hand in his.

"Let's go play with the kids," he murmured. I must not have looked much calmer, because he squeezed my hand and started to lead me away from the living room. "Calm down, Max," he said all the way down the hall. "Relax. Just relax."

"How can you tell me to relax?" I snapped, stopping outside the kitchen door. Nobody had followed us back here-- with good reason, too. "Did you not see that? Can you believe him?"

"No, I can't," Fang said, gently taking hold of my shoulders and looking me in the eyes. "I don't trust him either, Max. But we're safe here. They've been searching for a good few weeks now, and they haven't found us. Just because you saw him on the news doesn't mean they're going to."

"I know that," I said, slouching under his firm hands. "I'm just so mad at Jeb. I sort of lost it."

"I saw that." Fang smirked, and I hit him in the chest. "Okay, okay. Seriously, though, don't worry about it. Okay?"

"You're talking to me like I'm one of the kids," I griped, narrowing my eyes at him.

"That's because you gotta do this," he said, shaking me a little. "Forget it and let's go play with our kids."

First, I felt better, and then I had the biggest realization of my life: I did love Fang, the way Angel said he loved me. I cared about him in a way I couldn't really describe, because he was the only person in my entire screwed up life who had been there for fourteen years, who always knew just what I needed, who really would be my best friend forever. But I loved him as more than that, more than a best friend. We were meant to be together, just like those two people who had held hands as they embraced their children.

"Okay," I said, the smile I gave him having more happiness to it than it had in, like, ever. "I'm fine. Let's go."

I hope everyone had a good Christmas! Reviews are a great late Christmas present… : D