The Disbanded: Divided We Stand-Chapter 17

By MyNameIsCAB

---Max's POV---

I woke up, Fang's arm limply still around me. Looking at him, his eye was now blackened where I punched him. A wave of guilt washed over me, even though he had been so forgiving last night. I felt ashamed. Angry at myself now. I acted without thinking. Stupid me.

A few minutes later, Fang stirred, yawning and rubbing his head. He sat up, but then lay back down quickly. "What time is it?"

I glanced at the clock. "8:11."

"Shit, did I take my meds last night before I fell asleep?" he asked me.

I shook my head.

He sighed. "Oh well. It doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry, Fang." It was my fault he had forgotten. I didn't understand why he wasn't mad at me.

"No, don't worry about it," Fang insisted. "I'll be okay."

He reached for his nightstand and grabbed a pill from each canister before swallowing them dry. I could never swallow anything without water. I was afraid I would choke.

Just as I was about to say I was going to talk to Messina, he knocked on the door and I opened it.

"How's Fang?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Fang chimed in. "We getting ready to hit the road again?"

Messina nodded. "Whenever you're ready."

I watched Fang button up his long sleeves shirt, satisfied that it covered his scars which I had almost killed him over. We did a sweep of the room to make sure we got everything, and then we were, once again, back in the van.


---Fang's POV---

My head hurt, but I wasn't going to admit that to Max. She didn't need to feel guiltier than she already did. But my chest started to hurt really bad when she and Ted carried me to the car.

"You all right, Fang?" Ted asked as I ran my hand across my chest, hoping that would take the pain away.

"Yea, I'm fine," I lied.

Max gave me a worried look. She still looked worried now as Ted continued driving. We still had nine more hours before we even got into Chicago.

"Aww, crap." Ted hit the steering wheel with his fists. "We hit freaking traffic!"

Cal started to laugh. "Since when do you use 'crap' and 'freaking'?"

Max turned to me. "Ted doesn't have a colorful vocabulary like you, Cal, and me do. It's rare to even here his say hell."

"Guess you all rub off on me," Ted smiled.


---Max's POV---

I remember that Cal had the nastiest vocabulary ever when I first met her. I mean, it wasn't like she was mean to us or anything. Maybe now that she's been around Messina, it's gotten better, but maybe now Ted is just getting worse.

"How long do you think all this traffic will last?" I asked.

Ted shrugged. "A long time. It looks like an accident ahead with an eighteen-wheeler. We're stuck here."


---Fang's POV---

Ted turned off the gas. It wasn't hot outside, so we wouldn't roast like an oven in the van anyway. Gas was expensive and there was no point of leaving the van on if we were just at a stand still.

"So, Fang," Cal climbed in the back and sat next to Max. "Exactly how did you make it all the way to Boston from California?"

"Well the doctors in Cali transferred me over to Chicago. Once I get discharged, a doctor from Boston found me and offered to bring me back there to his hospital for rehabilitation." I left out the part of the wrist cutting because I hadn't exactly explained why I had hurt myself to Max. Maybe it was better if I told her first before anyone else.

"And so I stayed there for about a year and a half and…" Suddenly, the pain in my chest just flared up. I cringed over towards the wall of the van, my eyes closed.

"Fang…" Max grabbed my arm. "Fang, what's wrong?"

"My chest…" I muttered, deciding I couldn't lie about this.

Max let go of me. She probably looked really worried, but I hadn't opened my eyes yet. The pain had just suddenly spiked. It felt like someone was stabbing me in the chest. That bullet the eraser had shot me with did more damage than the doctors had told me. Probably screwed some things up in there.

But I guess I was lucky to be alive.


---Max's POV---

Fang finally opened his eyes and sat up. His hand was still over his chest.

"I'm fine, really," he insisted.

"Sure," I frowned. I mean, he didn't look fine with his black eye and the exhaustion I could see in his eyes.

He sighed and closed his eyes again.

We sat in silence now for an hour. The accident finally cleared and the cops were directing everyone through one lane. Finally, we were moving again.

Fang's head plopped onto my shoulder a few minutes later. He was asleep, hand still over his chest.

"So what happened last night?" Cal asked.

I told her how I had overacted. Then I told them what Fang had told me about Chicago.

"I mean, I should have given him a minute to answer," I sighed. "I'm an idiot."

"Well, I would have done that to Ted," Cal smiled, trying to make me feel better. "You can't help but be angry. At least he's not angry at you."

"I was afraid that he might run off again," I admitted. "Because I don't want to lose him again."