A/N: You're gonna love this chapter. Just to clear stuff up, NO ONE IS ACTUALLY DEAD AT THIS POINT. And, when stuff happens in Nudge's or Iggy's point of view, it's happening at the same time as whatever's happening in Max's point of view. Keep that in mind!

I spent nearly an hour staring up at my ceiling, trying to make shapes out of the puffy white clouds I'd painted on its sky blue surface. Having only come up with a few white blobs, I stared around at the walls—lime green for those curious readers out there. Then, finally tiring of doing nothing, I rolled out of bed and yanked my boots on over my pajama bottoms, deciding to go check on the kids.

I crept down the empty hallway. Well, as much as I could creep in my ever-so-handy but ever-so-loud combat boots, that is. About fifteen feet from the door of Angel and Lizzy's room, I froze. Having been more focused on muffling my footsteps and avoiding creaky floorboards, I hadn't noticed that the door was slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of golden light to leak out of the crack. And standing in that light, hair disheveled, gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants wrinkled, was very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. His gaze was focused on something—or someone—inside the room, as he bit down on one side of his lip; the other side was turned up in a wistful half-smile. He started swaying slightly, like he was listening to music.

When I listened closer, I realized that that was exactly the case. A smooth, sweet, accented voice carried through the doorway, singing softly a lullaby in a language I didn't recognize. The voice was beautiful and familiar. I took a step closer so I could hear better. In doing so, I stepped on one of the creaky floorboards I'd been so careful to avoid minutes ago.

Tony's head snapped towards me so fast I was surprised he didn't get whip lash. He blinked at me, as if emerging from a trance. "Max?" he whispered, squinting through the darkness. I cleared my throat and blushed, feeling as if I'd interrupted something private.

"Yeah, it's me," I whispered back, stepping into the light. He frowned.

"What are you doing up?" he asked. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Did you really expect any of us to sleep?" I retorted. He shrugged, losing interest in our conversation. His gaze slid back to its original object of focus. I peered around the door to see what he was looking at. The scene I then witnessed was so unbearably sweet and hallmark-y that I could've thrown up all over it right there.

Angel and Elizabeth sat up in their bed, a pink quilt pulled up to their chins. Angel's long blonde curls were pulled back in pigtails, but Elizabeth's shorter brown ones were spread over her face and the wooden headboard behind her. Sitting in the middle, wiping their tears—which was so my job—was our very own Ziva David. It was her voice that filled the room and hallway and annoyingly warmed my heart.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" commented Tony. When he glanced at me and caught my raised eyebrow, he hastily explained, "I mean her singing."

"I know exactly what you meant," I said, dropping him a wink.

Before Tony had time to respond to my teasing, the door across the hall opened. I jumped and twisted in the air, doing a complete 360 and landing in a fighting stance. Gazzy appeared in front of us, throwing his hands up in surrender. Frowning, I let my body relax. I reached out and ruffled his hair, earning a dissatisfied grunt in response.

"What brings you to our little hallway party, Gaz?" I asked quietly.

"Couldn't sleep. Thought I heard voices. Why are we whispering? Why is Tony making googley eyes at Angel and Lizzy's bedroom? Is that Ziva singing?" he mumbled.

"Jeezums, somebody's awful talkative this morning," I said. He shrugged.

"I figured since Nudge isn't here to talk our ears off…"

Thank you, Gazzy, for that little reminder of the totally crappy situation we're in. When I shot him a look, he didn't notice, as he was now listening intently to Ziva's lovely singing.

Soon enough, Fang emerged from the shadows, claiming to have had only minutes of restless sleep. I rested my head on his chest and closed my eyes. All too soon, the song ended. I opened my eyes to find that it had put the two little girls two sleep. With a soft smile, Ziva carefully untangled herself from Angel and Elizabeth and stood from the bed. She turned.

With a quiet gasp, she finally noticed our presence. "Have you been—"

"Eavesdropping? Of course. I didn't know you could sing like that. Since when can you sing like that?" Tony said.

Ziva shrugged. "I could not sleep, so I decided to check on the kids. Those two were awake, trying to comfort each other. I figured I would pitch in. I—I used to sing it to my little sister to help her sleep," she explained to Tony. He stared straight in her eyes, and I had another feeling that I was intruding on a private moment.

"It was… beautiful." Oh, dear. He looked about ready to kiss her. Thankfully, Gazzy ruined the moment.

"I'm hungry," he complained, rubbing his stomach for affect. The magic of the moment vanished in a puff of smoke and fairy dust. "I need to get something in there before-" His stomach growled angrily in warning.

"Oh, God no, Gazzy! We need to feed him, Max!" Fang said. He was actually expressing emotion. Pure terror.

"What? What will happen if he doesn't eat?" asked Ziva anxiously.

"He… expresses one of his… powers," I said, doing nothing to hide the look of disgust on my face. "Let's go get something to eat. We don't need a… explosion so early in the morning. Plus, I'm a bit hungry myself. I haven't eaten in, like, hours."

I sat on a kitchen stool, happily munching on leftovers from dinner a few nights ago. One of the many things I'd learned since coming to NCIS: Ziva David makes killer lasagna. In fact, most of her food was almost as good as my mom's. And though my heart ached for my mother and sister, I was getting used to living with the two special agents in the cushy house with good food and wearable clothes.

"Alright, Gaz. Time for bed. We've got a… challenging day ahead of us," I said. He groaned through a face full of muffin. Did I mention Ziva had made muffins for breakfast yesterday? In case you were wondering, they were delicious. Be jealous.

"I don't wanna go back to bed," Gazzy whined. "I doubt I'm gonna fall asleep anyway."

"Too bad. You need to get some rest. Hey, Zi, do you think you could do some of that fancy singing trance magic you just performed on the two youngest?" I asked. She smiled.

"I'd be delighted. Come on, Gazzy. We'll need you to be at your best tomorrow," she told him, ruffling his hair. His pout melted into a grin, which turned into a yawn.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to get in a few more hours of siesta time," he conceded, following Ziva out the swingy kitchen door and up the stairs.

That left me and Tony alone. Again. Awkward, much? I chewed busily on my lasagna, desperately avoiding conversation. Apparently, he had other ideas. He reached into the fridge, pulling out a six-pack of root beer.

"Want some?"

I shook my head, and there was a minute's pause in the conversation while Tony took a sip of his root beer, looking awfully thoughtful. It was a little while before he spoke again.

"Ya know, she asked me once… if I ever regretted never getting married, having a family of my own," he told me. I looked up from my lasagna.

"Erm… who?" I asked. I was pretty sure I knew who he was talking about, but that didn't explain why he was even telling me this. In answer to my question, he pointed toward the ceiling, where Ziva's voice leaked through the floorboards. (Gazzy, of all people, had chosen the room above the kitchen.) "Oh. So… what'd you say?" I asked, still confused.

"Nothing. But I'd still been sure, back then, that the definite answer was no."

"Oh," I said again. "But now…?"

"I'm not so sure," he finished, sighing and taking a swig of root beer.

"So… Why are you telling me this again?" I asked. He shrugged.

"I dunno." He looked down at the tile floor, eyes closed, once again in deep thought.

I sighed. Sometimes I really wished I was totally cold-hearted and apathetic. Then I could avoid moments like these, when I had to gather up my small puddle of charm, and use my quick, on the spot thinking for good. Things would be so much easier if I were a robot.

"You'll still have a chance at that. Maybe if—when we get out of this mess, you two could…" I trailed off.

He shook his head softly, putting his bottle to his lips, pausing for a second, then chugging the rest of his root beer. I frowned at him. My whole being futilely resisted what I was about to do. I forced myself to do it anyway. I wouldn't want to die knowing that I'd left things unfinished.

"I—I'm sorry." There. I said it. He looked up, startled.

"Excuse me? Did the invincible Maximum Ride just apologize?" he teased. He dropped it at my infamous death glare. "What about?"

I rolled my eyes. "That you might not be able to marry her because of us. And for freaking out on you that morning," I said.

He shook his head again. "It's not your fault. Every adult you've ever met has hurt you. It's become sort of a reflex to draw away from them."

"Still, you guys are about to risk everything for us. You've done so much already," I said. Resisting the urge to say something cynical to ruin the moment was almost painful at that point. Still, I refrained.

"But you couldn't be sure. Plus, they took people we care about, which pisses off Gibbs. Gibbs is not a man you want to piss off," Tony pointed out.

I shrugged and nodded. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Tony? The stuff you might see could be pretty… disturbing. And it could be the last thing you see."

"Of course I'm ready for this. We protect our own," he assured me, pushing my shoulder affectionately.

I couldn't control my smile. "Thanks, Tony."

He smiled back. "No problem, Max."

I stared absent-mindedly out the window of the black sedan, tightening my grip on Fang's hand. We were driving through windy roads, headed toward rural Virginia. We'd decided to just take the car to save our energy. The air was deadly silent. Nobody wanted to say anything that they could use against us with Vance's goon in the driver seat.

Half an hour later, our driver parked the sedan below a grassy hill. We got out without a word, and they drove away immediately following everyone's exiting the car.

As we all started towards the hill, I held up a hand, signaling for the others to wait. "Gibbs, Ange," I ordered, gesturing towards the awaiting hill. They nodded, and we went ahead.

A chilly breeze played with my hair and rustled piles of lost colorful leaves, which seemed rather out of place. There were no trees for miles. I spotted a barbed-wire fence on the other side of the hill, guarding an invisible fortress, it seemed.

I looked at Angel, and she nodded. There was nothing there.

"It's all clear, guys!" I called back to the others. They emerged from the grass below and looked around them. For now, it seemed, we were alone. Out of habit, we all tensed for a fight, drawing our weapons.

I've never in my life been more thankful for our paranoia. It just might have saved our lives that moment, because just then, hundreds of Erasers popped out of holes under the piles of oh-so-innocent leaves.

"Kill the birdkids and all who stand in our way!" they shouted, waving their machine guns in the air.

"This will be fun," I commented, aiming my first knife.

A/N: Ahhh! Ha ha ha. I know something you don't know. But please don't fret, dear readers. I'm not some mass character murderer. I'm not like that. Anyways, the next chapter is the long-awaited climax, so stay tuned!