A/N: I know I am the worst, and I am SO sorry. That's… really all I can say.

Hope you guys see this. More to come, but thank you for your patience and loyalty to this crazy story. I know I'm not an easy one to trust, but I haven't given up on this story. I'm just trying to work through some shit.

Updates will be less frequent because I am trying to pace myself. I have my outline, still - and about ten more chapters already written. But be patient with me.

Much, much love.

Disclaimer: James Patterson owns all recognizable characters and plotlines.

Warning: Language and themes, as usual.

M

I pull open the back door, not surprised when I see he is already a dark spot on the horizon. I mutter a curse, glancing in Iggy's direction. I swipe both my hands through my hair, sighing.

"What'd you do?"

I glower at Iggy's semi-accusatory question, pacing on the porch restlessly while I think.

"I doubled down," I mutter. "Told him to follow through with his internship."

Iggy actually laughs at that, rolling his startling blue eyes, pausing to take a quick pull from his joint. "Anyone could've told you that's not happening."

I grit my teeth. That's un-fucking-acceptable to me. We have to balance our shit, and the kids are going back to school. If Fang wasn't so petrified of me and what I might do to myself, I'm sure he wouldn't think twice about going. I can't be the one to wreck all of this. It's sending me into even more of a spiral than I've already been in.

I drop into the chair next to Iggy, swiping his joint from his fingers. "He wants this. He's just scared."

"Understatement," Iggy says, letting his now empty hand drop to the table to tap on it mindlessly. "A lot has happened this weekend, Max. What did you expect?"

I don't answer him, instead taking a quick puff. I expect it to calm my nerves, but it never does. My heart is racing.

I don't know what I expected.

I never expected to uncover what we did, and never saw any of this time travel mess coming. But I know that those aren't the issues that are keeping Fang from going back. It would be easier for me to accept if they were.

"Are you okay?" Iggy tries cautiously, tapping his boot against my socked foot under the table.

"No," I mutter out without thinking. I stand, taking his hand back and placing his joint back between his deft fingers. "And I am not letting him win this."

I turn and go back inside, flicking off lights on the lower level while I go. The kids are in bed, finally, after one last-ditch attempt from Gazzy to get out of school tomorrow. Poor kid is reeling, and I feel awful for having placed such a weight on his shoulders.

Angel assured me she would keep an eye on her brother at school. She seems fairly stable, taking in all this new information like the little computer she is. She told me I should go to bed, try to rest. She's still being extremely careful with me, trying to watch out for me. No doubt working with Fang.

I move upstairs, left toward Fang's room. I push open one of his large windows, feeling the night breeze greet me as I do. I pull off the hoodie I'd donned earlier, feeling warm and stuffy, and trade it for one of his many plain t-shirts. I sit on his bed, my mind still racing, trying to figure out a compromise that works. Willing myself to feel normal, feel capable – trying hard to find a way to fix this absolute mess of a state I am in.

I flop backwards on his bed, wincing as my left wing gets crushed by my shoulder. I stare up at his ceiling, tapping my toes on the carpet. I try really hard not to think about Jeb, all the chaos he's caused for so long. All the pain and confusion I feel now is because of him, and I still feel so far away from solving it at all. Escaping it all.

Fang's computer dings softly from his desk. He's gotten a message. I barely hesitate before swinging myself up into a sitting position with a grunt, shoving off his bed and making my way over to it. I draw figure eights on the touch pad until the screen comes to light and see he has a new email from his new boss. The subject line says RE: Family Emergency.

I know I shouldn't, but I click on the message anyways.

Hi Fang,

So sorry to hear that you are dealing with an emergency with the family. If there is anything I can do to convince you to keep the position, let me know. Definitely take all the time you need. I know we said three months, but you have been quick to pick up on training and you're still a great fit for this role.

If you'd be able to carve out a week or two in the near future, I'd be happy to streamline our process on my end and get you up to speed. I think you're fully capable of stepping into the role full-time in that timeframe, if you are interested. Let me know your thoughts.

I drum my fingers on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Two weeks. It's nothing, it's a blip. Right? We'll be dealing with this Jeb mess for who knows how long – but in two weeks, he could have the job he wanted. I bite my lip, thinking hard. I know this message won't sway him. He's stubborn as hell, especially when it comes to me. But I also know there's no way I'll be able to try to feel normal with him watching me like a hawk.

Earlier, after dinner, I had come into his room to find him scrolling on his phone, sitting on his bed. My original goal had been to get his help brainstorming how to train and power-test the Flock, to see what we're capable of and what we need to work on. Since we have no idea the exact threat before us, I want to be ready for anything. And since the entire Flock is on the case, now, I know it will be a bit of a slower process. And I just can't sit around and think about my life's meaning anymore, it's nearly killing me. But if we want balance, we have to try to be patient – and that shit does not work for me, clearly.

I hate this so much. I feel it physically. I caused this, this jolt in our plan. What was meant to be a clean, reassuring leap into normalcy is abruptly interrupted by my insistence to delve into the case and discover Jeb's deepest, darkest secrets about us. It's so frustrating to see the consequences unfold. To remember Fang's reluctance from the very beginning…wanting nothing to do with Jeb's case. All of our conversations about the risks, and the dangers of knowing…

Regret is stronger than fear. I know that, now.

The one comfort is, despite our resolve to try to balance our normalcy with this investigation, the FBI is still working diligently. Alana had sounded optimistic that the rest of the physical evidence would be logged by the end of the week. If that's true, we may need to prepare ourselves for the next steps: giving statements and witness testimony, reconvening with our lawyer. Meeting with Jeb.

I really need to call Val.

I'm about to close out of the email when I see out of the corner of my eye movement in the moonlight sky. He's back, swooping down gracefully in the yard behind the house. I knew he needed just a moment to let off some steam after our last conversation. Maybe he will be more willing to talk about it now, level-headed.

He doesn't come inside right away, although I'm sure he saw his room illuminated through the window. I wait, listening carefully, and hear Iggy greet him softly. Fang doesn't say anything in response, but I hear one of our outdoor chairs scratch against the patio as I assume he takes a seat.

"She's not okay," Fang finally says. I hear it clear as day, but because I'm nosy and frustrated, I get up and go toward the window to snoop better. I'm nothing if not an excellent eavesdropper.

"Are any of us?" Iggy responds, sighing heavily. "Listen, I'm here. I can, as you put it, keep an eye on her. If you want to go back."

I can almost hear Fang shaking his head. I know him so well I can picture his posture, firm and stiff, his teeth gritted and his eyes harsh. "No."

"Well, do you want to?"

"It doesn't matter. Whatever I wanted before has nothing to do with what we're dealing with now."

"I get that you're worried about her. But part of her issue right now is that she feels like everyone is losing control, losing out on what they wanted before this all blew up in our faces."

I mentally praise Iggy for trying to reason with him. I am surprised he's trying, but he's not wrong about where I am coming from. A huge part of this right now is about being in control – of literally anything that I can. If I can control the kids continuing their education, if I can control that Fang doesn't give up on his dream…that's all I have right now. Nothing else is even within my reach of understanding, let alone control.

"She tried to off herself in the desert," Fang deadpans harshly. He doesn't give any explanation, which is infuriating to me. He also doesn't give Iggy much time to digest that before continuing with, "Big part of her issue right now is existentialism. This cloning thing really fucked her up, and I'm not leaving her to deal with it alone."

"Shit." Iggy is clearly done fighting for me, now sitting with this new revelation and backing down from their argument.

"Yeah." Fang is quiet for a minute. "I barely want her out of my sight."

I have to stifle my own sound of indignation. Are we really going to go 'round and 'round about this? After everything, does he really think I am an immediate risk to myself?

Is it even about that anymore?

I can't lie, my brain is a jumbled mess of regret and shame and emptiness – still. But there's also a very clear voice in my head telling me I need to stay here because the Flock needs me; that will always anchor me, no matter what. And though it scares me to send Fang away…that didn't matter before.

"She won't do anything, Fang. She's smarter than that."

"I don't care," Fang says firmly. "She doesn't get a chance to do anything that stupid again."

I feel hot, angry at their entire conversation. Angry Fang is writing me off as a suicide risk, even if it could be warranted. Not thinking it through fully and definitely running on impulse, I slam Fang's window shut and stomp over to the computer. The email is still up on the screen, and I hesitate this time – for just a split-second – before sitting down and opening a reply window.


"What the fuck did you do?"

I open my eyes blearily, blinking against the sun. Fang is standing a few feet inside my room, arms crossed and eyes lit with fury. I'd stubbornly ignored his invitation to sleep in his room last night, still frustrated with what I'd overheard.

I rub one of my eyes, still trying to wake up.

"What? Oh," I mumble as my mind catches up with him. Crap. "Fang–"

"I know you think what you says, goes," he nearly shouts, looking pissed. "But what the fuck, Max? I can't believe you."

"I can't believe you!" I shout back, trying desperately to wake up all the way. "Acting like I need a babysitter? Acting like my reaction to any of this was abnormal?"

His eyes widen to a laughable degree, but he is not laughing. "Max, you crossed a line here," he says quietly, his words scathing. "Emailing my boss? As me?"

I respond defiantly, "I only said what you know you would have."

His jaw sets in a firm, stubborn clench. "Maybe a week ago–"

"Maybe if you weren't being so overprotective–"

He scoffs, eyes rolling hard, and turns to leave. "I'm not having this argument – again."

"Then you are a coward!" I call after him. It doesn't stop him. He leaves me alone, sitting in my bed wondering what just happened. I don't even consider losing this battle, though. I swing my legs out of my bed and pad down the hall determinedly to his room. I notice the kids are gone, thankfully taking me seriously about going back to school today.

In his room, he's busy drafting a new email. New annoyance rises in me like a fire and I walk over to slap his laptop closed. He's seething. He takes one moment to close his eyes and pull in a controlled breath before spinning in his chair to face me.

"What is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with you?" I retort childishly.

Before he can respond, or not, we're interrupted by Iggy knocking twice on the open door, stepping into the room with his phone in hand.

"Ella," he says casually, holding the phone out in our general direction. "She wants to talk to you. Both of you."

Fang levels an annoyed look in my direction as I take the phone begrudgingly.

"Hi, Ella," I say into the phone, trying to control my frustration.

"Hi, put me on speaker," she says firmly.

I do, and set the phone on the desk between us.

"Fang, Max – Iggy gave me an update on how things are going and I think we need to chat."

I give Iggy a stern look, one that Ella must be sensing through my silence, because she says, "Please don't be mad at him. He just wanted me to check in on you."

"Great, thanks, we're fine," I say firmly, still eyeing Iggy with a glare. I'm feeling particularly murderous toward him now because I realize that he's completely pulled my human half-sister into this mess. Iggy can feel the heat from my gaze, or just my anger filling up the room's atmosphere, because he backs away from me with his hands up.

"You know this is her thing."

"Still not your place to pull her into this," I say disapprovingly, but Iggy rolls those bright blue eyes like only he can.

"Max, you can't hide from this. Ella wants to help. Just hear her out."

I roll my eyes back, muttering, "Of course shit hits the fan and you call Ella."

Fang adds cynically, "Why, of all the things, did she have to pick a psychology major?"

"Fang, shut up," Ella responds back, not meanly. "Hear me out, huh? You want Max to feel better and get her mind right, right? Max, you want Fang to feel ready to go back to his job?"

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. "Ella–"

"Nope, listen to me. I have ten minutes before my next class so just listen to what I have to say."

Iggy grins at her tenacity, taking a seat on Fang's bed to be an audience for our lecture. I'm sure we have already been entertaining enough for him this morning. Ella starts in on her agenda, speaking with assertion.

"You two have the most dysfunctional relationship I have ever seen. I get it, codependency has always worked for you, especially when shit hits the fan. Fang, I know you are worried about Max – we all are. Max, I know you don't want Fang to lose out on this opportunity. I get that. But you can't just force him away and not take care of yourself. You two need to set aside that little voices in your heads that tell you to fight or flight, and think for a moment."

Fang's glaring at the phone, lips set in a thin, mean line. I say nothing, either, so Ella sighs.

"I know you two don't really care, at the end of the day, if your relationship is healthy or not. But what you should care about is each other, and trying to make shit work even when you are scared. And that doesn't mean dropping the rest of the world and hiding up in that house until the storm passes." She pauses, speaking to someone nearby her, her tone changing from strict and motherly to friendly and fun. She exchanges pleasantries, and then she's back. "Max can't heal the way you want, Fang, with you on top of her every move. Any one of you would be having a hard time with this, and you can't force her to feel better. The truth is, she will have the rest of the Flock and you know that is enough."

I raise my eyebrows at Fang, as if to say, Ha! Told you.

"That being said, Max, you are not okay right now and your family has a right to want to make sure that you get better. Truth is, at the end of the day it is your job to get better. So either you talk with me, a few times a week, for an hour about how you're feeling… or you go to a fucking therapist."

My jaw drops. Fang returns the eyebrow raise, and Iggy just stifles a laugh. I'm about to butt in and let her know that we don't have to listen to her, and I for sure am not going to see a shrink, but she cuts me off again.

"I know you aren't going to see someone, so I am going to do it for you. We're going to start working through your shit, so Fang can continue with literally the only thing he's ever done for himself without feeling like he's leaving you to flail. And in the meantime, you two need to come to terms with the fact that you cannot control everything. Besides, it's only a few months and Fang comes home on the weekends.."

I do finally butt-in here, commenting, "Actually, his boss said two weeks."

His gaze narrows into a look that could cut glass.

"Fang, you'll regret not doing this," Ella continues smartly. "This stuff matters. As much as you feel like it doesn't right now, it does.."

"Okay, Ella," Fang says finally, "I'm sorry, but you can't tell us what to do."

Ella hums a moment, clearly trying to figure out the best way to respond. "I know I can't. But… you know I'm right. What are you really afraid of?"

"He doesn't trust me," I say in an accusatory tone, eyeing Fang and daring him to disagree. He doesn't.

"You haven't given me much of a reason to."

I throw my hands up in a huff. "Fang, I came back! I didn't do it. And clearly I survive at least a few years into the future, is that not enough of a reassurance?"

Iggy leans forward from his spot on the bed, swiping his hand across his neck like, Don't go there. Makes sense. I guess he filled Ella in on everything but our visits from our future selves. At least he has some sense of self-control.

"Weird way to put that, but… okay," Ella says slowly. "She's right, Fang. Everyone breaks, but she knows to come back and get support. That's huge."

That is not necessarily why I came back, but I'll let her do her spin.

"You know if anything were to happen here, or if Max were to need you, we would call you immediately. And you know that giving up on this thing you wanted so much will make her feel worse."

She pauses, and Fang says nothing, so she says, "Listen, I gotta go. I say the two of you fly up to campus, spend a night at your apartment there and decide together what the plan is, and the rules you want in place for each other. Boundaries, reassurances, anything you need to make the next few weeks work. But to just let fear rule your decisions for now and for the future? Max may not be, but I know you're more rational than that."

My turn to scoff. Gee, thanks sis.

"Iggy, make sure they work this out, please. Anyway, love you guys. I'll talk to you soon!"

The phone does its telltale beep to end the call, and Iggy sighs dramatically, falling onto his back on Fang's bed.

"She is so awesome."

I roll my eyes. I look at Fang, trying to figure out what he's thinking. He doesn't look happy, but he looks thoughtful. I watch him for a moment, then when I realize he isn't going to be the first one to speak, I lean my shoulder against the wall and look down at him, hoping to reach some sort of compromise.

I toss Iggy's phone in his direction, and it lands on his stomach.

"Go," I say authoritatively. He looks relieved to get out of this conversation, anyway.

"Fang, I'm sorry," I say once he's gone, forcing it out because I don't feel like I did anything wrong. "I want this for you, and I can't stand that I am the only thing stopping you."

He rubs his forehead, looking torn. "We'll go up tonight, to the apartment. And we can talk about what this might look like."

I nod hopefully, feeling reassured that he isn't blowing steam out of his ears anymore. It's crazy – as much as I want this for him, it feels like breaking my own fingers to beg him to leave, go back to his job. Crazy things happen to you when you love someone. You'll fight hard for what they want, even when it breaks you.

"Okay, okay," I say softly.

"You have to promise me," he says slowly, peering into my eyes with a deep intensity that only Fang can manage, "If you need anything or anything happens, you will tell me."

I have to physically refrain from rolling my eyes, because I know just like I can't turn off my stubbornness, he can't turn off his worry.

I lean down toward him, so we're face-to-face and give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I promise. You'll get all my existential, terrified rants – you always do."

He doesn't crack a smile. He doesn't yet seem convinced, but Ella's reasoning has definitely hit a nerve for him. Especially her point that if he backed out of this just because of me, I would feel even worse. It's so damn true.

He still looks stressed and pressed about this entire situation, so I try once more to really lay it on thick, my support and supposed-ease around this decision.

"You, me, and that bed," I say really quietly. "We'll finally get some time just for us."

At this he does crack a smile, a small one, and mostly for my benefit. I'll take what I can get.


When we arrived at his apartment, it's already getting dark. We'd stayed long enough to see all the kids home from school, including Nudge who got home late, as usual. The kids had been going through take-out menus with Iggy, trying to decide on dinner. By some miracle, it has not fully escaped my mind that I still need to get groceries. It will just have to wait until tomorrow.

Once we're inside and have disarmed all of Fang's security systems, he pulls out a take-out menu of his own and hands it to me.

"Hungry?"

I force on a smile, taking it from him and perusing the options. "Always."

He kicks off his shoes, sitting next to me on his bed. He gives a heavy sigh, letting his wings unfurl as much as they could behind him without crowding the small space. He's tense, and now he's the one being cautious around me, regardless of how hard I try to play it cool. He can sense that I'm pushing for normalcy, but I know the last few days have weighed on him heavily.

"Don't do any digging into the case without me," he says finally, fingers dancing over my knee.

I look up from the menu, meeting his gaze.

"We won't," I say firmly, knowing this is true, at least. It's been one of our biggest rules since this all began, and it won't change now. "What I want to focus on the next two weeks is some conditioning; it's been awhile since the kids sparred, and it was way too easy to get Iggy in a chokehold last week."

I pass him the menu, letting him see the options. I tuck my wings in tightly and fall back against his pillows, letting out a sigh. His feathers flit over my head, ruffling slightly as he tries to adjust to give me room.

"If Alana calls, or Carter, or anything comes up – I will call you immediately. If I have a panic attack, I will call you."

He shoots me a serious look and says, "If you have a bad dream, you better call me."

I laugh halfheartedly, rolling my eyes at him. He is not laughing.

"Fine, okay," I concede.

"And if we get any more…visits," he continues, reluctant to elaborate on the time traveling further than that, "you guys better tell me."

"I know, we will," I am quick to assure him. "Of course we will. Does this mean…?"

Fang pauses, clearly still torn. But he says finally, "We'll take it day-by-day."

I smile at the back of his head, feeling my chest swell and at the same time, my stomach is doing somersaults. I know this is what he deserves. Regardless of what I'm going through, mentally and emotionally, I need him to know he can trust me.

We put an order in for our food. Fang drops his phone on the bed once he's done calling it in and looks at me, still feeling me out a bit. "Do you need a shower?"

After watching him a moment, reading his expression, I nod. I follow him into the small bathroom. The shower in this studio is way small, especially for two mutants with wingspans the size of small SUVs – but we make it work. When we're in there, under the steaming spray of the showerhead, he pulls me to him and rests his forehead on mine, our noses pressed together. He runs his fingers through my tangled hair, rinsing the soap from my scalp and massaging gently.

"Please, please don't let me regret this," he whispers.

I open my eyes to look into his, and they are so full of worry that I can't stand it. I want to tell him I'm okay until he believes it, but that could go on forever without convincing him. I raise up on my toes to close our gap, kissing him gently, sliding my fingers over his skin, trying to distract us both from the difficult emotions of the last 48 hours.

Fang doesn't resist me at all this time. He grabs me, pulls closer until he's holding me tightly to him. When that's not enough, he's lifting me off my feet, maneuvering me carefully to wrap my legs around his hips. He kisses me the entire time, and I pull my wet wings as close to my spine as possible so he can prop me against the cool tile wall.

His lips travel down a path on my jaw, neck and chest, fingers pressing tightly into my hips. We're getting carried away, and so I tug on his chin, gasping, "Wait."

His eyes, for a moment, swim with concern for me. I smile a little at him, and blush against my will as I say, "We can't, not in here. My wings are cramping. But… I did remember protection this time."

That's the green light I think he needed. In a swift movement without setting me down, he shuts the shower off and swipes back the curtain. He steps out carefully, still holding me, still kissing me feverishly. He hastily reaches for a towel on the rack, dropping me onto the plush mat in front of the sink. We dry off, extremely haphazardly, and while I am still trying to wring some water out of my tangled hair he scoops me up again.

He covers my mouth with his and moves towards the bed, hands exploring my backside and gripping me greedily. It hasn't even been that long since we last did this, but it still feels like multiple lifetimes ago. Something about being with him feels so right; it's the only thing that feels at all normal. As long as I don't let myself think too much about it.

"Where's your bag?" he mumbles against my lips, and I laugh into his kiss while I point. He sits on the bed, me in his lap, and I bend over to retrieve what we need from the front pocket of my pack. We're quick and fumbling, stealing kisses whenever a moment presents itself. I finally find what I'm looking for and he's pulling back the covers, curling in around me and resuming his urgent kissing of my neck. Moments later I've completely forgotten the case, the drama – my own name, for that matter. Relishing the feeling of being wrapped up in him and in this moment, thinking of nothing else.

My eyes close and I let out a moan. He groans in my ear quietly, relentless and fervent, lost in it like I am.

"Oh, I hate myself for this one."

I whip my head around, snapping out of our moment to choke on a startled scream.

It only takes a millisecond for Fang's concern to match my complete and utter shock – he flips us in a blink of an eye and glares at them, looking dumbfounded.. I fumble for the sheets, nearly pulling them up to both of our noses, because there they are.

Future Max and Future Fang. Right there, standing at the end of the bed, looking right at us.

"I understand the modesty, but it's not like this is something we haven't seen," Future Fang reasons.

Future Max tilts her head a bit, stifling a grin. "Not quite from this angle, though."

"What the fuck?" Fang demands, the confusion in his voice only outranked by the scathing, angry undertones. He curls his midnight black wings around us, helping some, but I don't think I have ever felt this violated in my life. I bury my face against his shoulder, cursing them and any power that helped them get here with a slew of evil wishes.

"Why?" I groan hopelessly against his collarbone. Praying I'll look up again and they will be gone.

Future Max seems to take some pity, reaching down into my backpack for a t-shirt and tossing it on the bed next to me. "Ah, to be young again."

I try to put it on without dropping the sheets from my shoulders while Future Fang continues on.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says. "Really. But I'm pretty sure your food has been on the doorstep for twenty minutes or so."

Future Max chuckles lightly, taking a seat on the bed by our feet, looking rather comfortable with this invasion.

"What are you guys–"

She doesn't let me finish, waving her hand dismissively as she says, "It's not time yet. Gazzy is paranoid, and has us running all different types of quality checks. Wants to make sure we can do this exactly right. It's exhausting, lots for you to look forward to. At least this time it doesn't hurt as much."

"At least we can tell him this time, it worked with us both," Future Fang adds. "Well, don't let us ruin the mood–" He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling the device free.

"Wait!" I cry out, throwing up one hand. I flip off of Fang and sit staring at them. He adjusts the blanket over himself, still looking caught between disbelief and annoyance. "I mean, fuck – give us a minute, maybe? But don't leave."

Future Fang cocks an eyebrow at me, then looks back at Future Max. "How'd I know you were going to say that?"

She shrugs back at him. "Deja vu."

Future Fang leans down and picks up a pair of Fang's sweats, tossing them our way. I am still feeling very violated although, technically, it's just Fang and I in the room. As weird as that is to wrap my head around.

Fang huffs and gets up, pulling the sweats on and moving toward the door. Sure enough, he finds our food sitting outside on the doormat, wrapped up in a paper bag. He shuts the door, dropping the food unceremoniously on the bedside table and spinning to glare at his older self.

"Did you plan this, or do you just have the worst timing?"

Future Fang shrugs, looking over at his counterpart. She nods, like he is allowed to answer, so he says, "Well, it's easier to travel back to places or specific… strong memories… "

I blush a little at that, against my will. "You two don't get to keep doing this without any explanation. We have questions. This is fucking crazy."

"We know," they say together.

"Okay," I respond, looking at them like a monster with two heads, "Well…how old are you?"

They glance between each other, then back to us.

"Pass."

Fang takes his turn then, asking, "What's this mission we have to do? Why are you back?"

"Rescue mission," Future Fang answers firmly. "That's all you get."

"Rescue who?" I press.

Again, they glance at each other. "Pass," Future Max says, hesitating too long for my comfort. I roll my eyes; how can it be that hard to give a yes or no?

"You said the Flock wasn't in danger."

"I said," Future Fang says slowly, "that Jeb wasn't after the Flock."

"What's the difference?"

"Are you two married?" Fang cuts in, surprising me with that one. Future Max rolls her eyes, bumping Future Fang's shin with her shoe pointedly.

"I told you to take the ring off before traveling," she mutters.

Future Fang just shoots my Fang a sly smirk, shoving both hands in his pockets, saying knowingly, "Not like he's surprised."

I choose, for my own sanity, to ignore that.

"How can we help you if we don't know what's going on?" I demand impatiently.

Future Fang sighs. "We have to be careful. We're messing with dangerous stuff here, coming back and talking to ourselves. One day you'll be in our shoes. Be patient."

Future Max nods in curt agreement, obviously done with the Q&A even though I have about a million more questions. She nudges Future Fang with her shoe again, eyebrows creasing in a way I recognize, because it's how I look at myself in the mirror when I am losing patience.

"We need to get back."

She looks at Fang and I, smiling tightly. She's definitely worrying about something, and trying to keep it off her face. She's not good at it, which is a bummer – I wish I could say I get better at that over time. Seems not.

"We'll see you later. I promise next time, we'll bring you a piece of the puzzle."

They're gone before Fang and I have a moment to conjure up a response.