A/N: Oh, merde! (ha! See what i did there? that's French swearing!) I haven't been doing disclaimers! Well, I do not own Maximum Ride. Or Iggy. which makes me much sadder than it probably should.

Friends, Family, and... Feathers? Book One: Abducted By The Flock

Chapter Seven:

We head back to the house. I am the last one to land, and it's like a one-legged penguin trying to do ballet compared to the others. (For those of you who aren't into saying things creatively, I didn't land too gracefully.) The fact that my ankle really really really really REALLY hurts doesn't help.

After hobbling into the living room and collapsing on the couch, I blurt out, "My foot really hurts."

Glancing down at it, I realize for the first time that I'm not wearing shoes. Just a pair of black socks. The left one is torn to shreds and covered in blood.

"Iggy. Get over there and check out Cali's foot," Max orders.

Without question, Iggy saunters over and kneels down in front of me. He holds his hand out, and I carefully guide his fingers to my foot. His hands glide over the skin, as gentle as butterflies' wings.

"Well, for starters, there's a ton of glass in here. Was the window open when you were pulled out?"

I think for a moment, then shake my head. Remembering he can't see me, I say, "No, it was closed."

"Okay. Well, I have to take this glass out. Ange, will you get a washcloth and an ace bandage for me?"

"Yup," she says, running off.

"Okay. Cali, this is going to hurt. Bear with me, and tell me if it becomes... unbearable."

I grit my teeth and prepare myself.

Wow, there really was a ton of glass in there. It took Iggy forever to get it all out. Whenever he heard my sharp intake of breath, he would mutter soothing things to me. It was really sweet.

Once my foot was finally bandaged up, he gets up and sinks down on the couch next to me. Without thinking about it, I stretch out my hurt foot, resting it in his lap. He seems surprised at first, but smiles after a moment.

"So, do you have any extra powers?" the Gasman, or "Gazzy" asks after a moment.

"Huh?"

"Well, like, I can mimic voices," he says. Well, technically it sounds like I said it, but it's really him. He's good.

"You already know that Angel can read minds," he says, like this is a normal conversation. Maybe it is, for him.

"And Iggy can identify us by the feel of our skin, or feathers. So, he should get to recognize you," he adds.

I grasp Iggy's hand in my own and his long, thin fingers probe over mine, feeling my palm, my fingertips. Then, he says, "Let me feel your wings."

I guide his fingertips to my back, extending my right wing ever so slightly so he can reach it better. His gentle hand runs through the feathers, seemingly trying to memorize them.

"Aside from apparently being able to fly, I can't do anything special," I tell Gazzy regretfully.