Alright, guys-- I have an announcement.

This is a trilogy. Meaning there's a sequel to this story.

This has been in the works almost since I started writing Becoming You and Me, but I didn't say that there would be two sequels to BYAM in case my obsession with Maximum Ride went away, which my obsessions always do.

I was right-- about halfway through writing this story, I lost interest. But I'd written so much, so I kept going. Then I didn't tell you guys anything about the story after this one, in case I couldn't find it in me to write a whole other story when my heart wasn't in it.

But I've managed to do it-- the final part of the trilogy is about halfway finished. So I figured the chances are pretty good that I'll finish, and it's safe to announce now.

Anyway, that's what's happening. Onto the chapter!

On Monday, I was standing on a ladder, stocking high-up shelves. Apparently I had mouthed off one too many times-- Marie really needed to chill-- and had been sent away from the cash register.

My break had been moved back an hour. During our normal break, Fang appeared at the bottom of my ladder, crossed his arms, and looked up at me. "Hey."

"Hey," I said, shoving a couple more cans onto the shelf. "How's it going?"

"Fine. How's it going up there?"

I scowled and picked up another can. "Just freaking dandy."

The next time I took a can, Fang whisked it right out of my hand and held it out of my reach, smirking all the while. I reached forward, straining, holding onto the ladder with one hand. "Fang, give me that, you idiot."

He continued to move it around, my hand not quite able to keep up, and I just leaned further and further to the side and tried not to laugh.

And then, suddenly, I wasn't on the ladder anymore. I felt my foot slip, my legs fly out from under me, and then I was barreling forward, toward the tiled floor, everything seeming to go in slow motion.

When I hit the ground, landing on my back, pain shot through my ankle as it rolled. I moaned, and Fang's worried face appeared above me. "Oh man, Max, I'm so sorry."

"I hate you," I ground out through gritted teeth.

I felt him tug off my shoe and sock and gently touch my foot. "It's swelling."

"It hurts!"

He put his head right above mine, guilt all over his face as he lowered it to kiss my cheek. "I'm sorry. Seriously."

"Okay, that's great, could you help me?"

Fang sighed and turned to examine my ankle again. "I think you sprained it pretty bad."

"Just help me up, I can get back to work," I said, though my foot still hurt like hell. I tried to stand up, holding onto Fang's arm. The second I let go, though, I fell to the floor.

"Come here," he said, stooping down and scooping me up in his arms. "We're going to have Iggy bandage you up."

"Let me down," I said, slapping him. Luckily, there was almost no one in the store-- this was our least busiest time of day. Fang ignored me and started down the empty aisle, leaving my ladder and canned food behind. "Fang, we need this money. I can work."

"I'm finding Marie and telling her we're leaving," he said, not listening to me at all. I sighed, knowing I was going to lose this battle, and started doing calculations in my head, dreading having to ask my mom for more money.

0000000000

It took about an hour of shrieking, cringing, cussing, and calming shoulder rubs from Fang, but I finally got my ankle wrapped up. After I assured him that I was okay, he went back to work, and returned at the normal time with a pair of crutches he got on employee discount.

Later, Fang left to get the twins and Angel from their school, and Iggy went off to start cooking something fancy for dinner. I lay on the couch with my bad ankle on a pillow and watched the old TV my mom had given us.

Sometime in the middle of a show, my mind began wandering. We were struggling with money as it was, even with the limited amount I was accepting from my mom. With me apparently not able to work-- Iggy said that if I tried to walk on it at work, it'd get so bad that it would never completely heal-- we had an issue.

I tried to think of jobs I could do from home, or even on my crutches, to bring in some money, but came up with nothing. Or maybe-- and I liked this idea enough that I got an evil smile on my face-- Iggy could take my job over for the next three weeks.

"Oh, Iggy!" I called sweetly.

A second later, he stepped out of the kitchen. "What?"

"You're taking over my job while I'm hurt," I said in a teasing sing-song voice. "Starting tomorrow. Fang and my evil instructor will have to show you the ropes."

A look of horror passed over Iggy's face. "You're kidding me."

"Nope."

"But how am I supposed to do that? I'm blind!"

I rolled my eyes, returning my attention to the TV, and spoke with finality. "You can do it, Ig. All you do is press buttons. It isn't difficult."

Despite my tone, he stayed in the kitchen doorway, gaping. I narrowed my eyes and waved my hand, forgetting he couldn't see it. "Shoo, shoo."

Grumbling to himself, Iggy turned and went back into the kitchen, the door shutting loudly behind him. As I chuckled to myself, the front door opened.

"Mommy!" Gracie rushed to my side, her black eyes wide and worried. "Daddy said you were hurt. Are you okay?"

I smiled at her, trying not to wince as Devin came up and touched my ankle. Angel peered over the back of the couch and apparently determined that I was okay, because she quickly wheeled around and ran to her room. "I'm fine, honey."

Still, she looked skeptical, and I said, "Why don't you go help Iggy make dinner?"

Her face lit up; she loved cooking, and Iggy totally had a soft spot for her, not that he'd admit it. She ran into the kitchen. Devin hoisted himself onto my thighs and started watching the TV. I craned my neck and looked up at Fang. "Hey."

"Hey." He reached down and squeezed my shoulder. "How's it going?"

"Fine for me. But Iggy's going to take over my job while I'm out. So you have to help him out for a while." I smirked as Fang grimaced. "Good luck."

"You suck," he said, but at the same time he came around the arm of the couch, gently lifted my head, and sat down, nestling my head in his lap. "I guess you're kind of like the housewife, now that you're going to be home all the time. Wanna do my laundry?"

Even in the tired, injured state I was in, I managed to reach up and slap him upside the head. "Shut up, you sexist pig."

Something on his face changed, and I furrowed my brow. "What's wrong?"

"I stopped by your mom's on the way back from the school."

"Why?"

"Um…" Fang had that 'how do I say this without making her mad?' look on his face. "She… insists that we buy insurance. For all eight of us."

Insert curse word of your choice here.

Filler-ish. Next chapter's Fax-ish.

Review?