A/N: Mwahahahah! I just love this chapter. Sorry to all you Eggy fans out there, but you were forewarned in the first chapter's author's note. If you failed to read it, then I can take no responsibility for whatever problems you may have with this chapter. Please don't flame me because of this couple. I like it. :) So deal with it. Anyways, important stuff happens so you are required to read it. So there. :P

Iggy blinked, waking from what felt like a five-minute sleep. He was in a hospital bed, and something seemed wrong, different. Light flooded his eyes as he woke groggily from his drugged sleep. He blinked again, rubbed his eyes, and opened them again. His sleepy brain had finally woken up and begun to realize what was unusual about his current situation. He was looking at what seemed to be a hospital ward. Everything was crisp white, and the pungent scent of antiseptic stung his sensitive nose.

But the atmosphere was not the strange part. The strange part was that he was looking at the room. And to be looking at something, you had to be able to see. Which he couldn't, not normally anyway.

There was a man—a white coat- standing over him with a clipboard clutched in his meaty hands.

"How do you feel?" he asked eagerly, pen positioned readily over his clipboard.

"A-am I dreaming?" Iggy asked, feeling stupid for doing so, but the rather large white coat seemed to expect this question. An eager smile was still cemented to his ugly face.

"No. This is very much real. How many fingers am I holding up?" he continued to question him, holding up two fat fingers. Iggy decided he would do his best to do the world a favor and wipe the disgusting smile off of the man's face.

"You tell me. Your buddies took away my sight when I was nine, remember?" he replied. The man didn't drop his smile.

"Ah, but the surgery we've performed has brought it back, hasn't it? How does it feel to have your sight after all these years?" he asked, attempting to sound kind. Too bad Iggy knew better.

"It would be a whole lot better if I wasn't staring straight into your ugly face," he retorted. The man's smile faltered for a millisecond as he scribbled something down on his clipboard.

"I see," he said. Then he turned to his fellow white coat, who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. "Untie it, and bring in experiment number 0006," he ordered. The other man nodded and complied hurriedly.

After Iggy was untied, the second white coat opened the padlocked door, and when he returned, he was dragging a thin, dark-skinned female figure with a sac over her head. The man ripped the sac off of Nudge's head, leaving her unconscious form crumpled on the floor.

"Wha-what'd you do to her?" Iggy shouted, attempting to stand from the bed. His unsteady legs wobbled under him, and before he knew it, he'd toppled to the floor beside Nudge.

"Don't worry. You're little girlfriend just is fine. She should be waking up soon. Enjoy your time together… while you've got it," said scientist number one ominously. Before Iggy could question him further, he was gone.

Once the distraction of the creepy scientists was gone, Iggy gave Nudge his full attention, first checking her for visible injuries—a purple bruise on her right cheek, a couple of the stitches on her left cheek ripped opened, and slashes and bruises on her knuckles that suggested she'd tried fighting back- then just sitting and drinking in her beautiful face. It was round and caramel colored with full pink lips and long eyelashes. When those long lashes fluttered and her wide, sparkly brown eyes opened, he almost cried with relief. But that would be totally un-macho, so he refrained.

"Iggy?" Nudge whispered, pulling herself into a sitting position.

"Hey. Are you alright? You look like you put up quite a fight there. What happened to your hands?" he asked, taking them in his tenderly.

"Nothing. Just a little tussle with the Erasers. Nothing I couldn't handle," she replied evasively. Then, to save herself from further questioning, she continued to speak. "And I look like I put up a fight? How do you know that, Igs? In case you haven't noticed, you're blind," she pointed out. He looked her straight in the eyes, and she looked straight back and gasped. "OMYGOODNESS! That surgery—it-it gave you your sight back?" she guessed. She was gripping his hand now, her eyes widening. He nodded, a small smile stretching across his face. Now that the horrible scientists were gone, he could finally enjoy how amazing it was to be able to see again. "O my gosh! That's so awesome, Ig!"

"You know," he began deviously, "this is the first time I've seen you since you were seven." Her eyebrows shot to the moon.

"Oh? So… what do you think?" she asked hesitantly, her cheeks turning a cute shade of pink as she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. It was nice to actually see it when he made her blush for once, instead of having to feel it or simply guess.

"Hm…" His eyes trailed up and down her tall, lanky frame appraisingly, finally coming to rest on her wide, perfect brown eyes. "I think… that you've grown up a lot," he said finally. She frowned at him.

"C'mon. We both know you can do better than that."

"Okay… Well, you've gotten taller. You have… a figure," he began carefully, feeling as if he were treading on thin ice. Fortunately, she nodded, scooting even closer to him than she already sat.

"Alright. You're getting warmer."

"So we're playing this game now? Okay. You have the same cute nose, same pretty smile, but you've… most definitely grown to be even more… beautiful," he told her, leaning close enough to her that he could feel her warm breath tickle his face.

"Now you're on fire," she whispered, her voice heavy with a level of sauciness that he was not aware a girl her age could achieve. And before he knew what he was doing, he was kissing her, and it was amazing. A rush of heat coursed through his body with her touch, and suddenly they were no longer at the School, surrounded by homicidal maniacs. In that moment, they were the only two people in existence. There was no Itex, no Flock, no Max—

He pulled away, rather reluctantly. "Nudge, Max is going to kill us if she finds out," he pointed out. This was weird. Usually Nudge was the one worried about getting in trouble with Max. Apparently, the roles were reversed in this situation.

"Let her," she replied, and just like that, they were kissing again.

"Sir, experiments 0006 and 0007—they're—uh, well, they're…"

"Spit it out, Willert. I don't have time for your maddeningly incessant rambling," demanded the newest Director.

"They're kissing, sir," replied Willert. The Director rolled his eyes.

"You interrupted my extremely important business for this? Leave them be. They're overly hormonal teenagers of the opposite sex. You put them in a room alone. It's all going according to plan. Now, leave me, Willert. I have business to attend to."

The scientist nodded obediently, hurrying out the door on which the words "Special Interrogation Room" were printed.

The Director turned back to his victim. Tears streaked down her pale cheeks, mingling with her black mascara, into her black lips. Her dark pigtails hung limp and crooked from her head, but still it was held high.

"So, brave little Abigail, why don't you tell me everything you know about your friend, Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"