A/N: I'm sorry it took so long. I tried to write a good chapter, though, so tell me what you think.
Disclaimer: JP probably doesn't have any cousins, and if he does, he has never, ever, ever had to spend a week locked inside with them while they sing the chorus of "Rumor Has It" by Adele over and over and over and over.
A sickly sweet cloth is pushed over our three mouths. I lash out violently, not caring anymore. Self-preservation is kicking in. But with every second, my movements become weaker and weaker until the black wave hooks me and pulls me under.
**!**
I wake up crammed in a crate. Obviously they don't like me, because my limbs are folded up in all directions, trying to fit in a cage that's smaller than Iggy's appetite. For a minute, I struggle, trying to figure out where my arms and legs are. Then I orient myself, squishing into the corner with my arms around my knees, my feet bent in a way that I was pretty sure you needed girl hips to do.
Nudge is next to me, and Max is across from me. Both of them are out cold. And next to Max is...
"Fang?"
My spirits soar. I smile over at the bruised, dirty little angel curled up in her dog crate, which I swear to God is bigger than mine. She smiles back. Her lips are cracked and bleeding, and one eye is blackened. He curls are lank and dirty. But she still manages to be happy and alive.
That's when I look at my arm. It's healed. The bandage and the stick are gone. Only three gruesome white scars are left behind. I shudder. In a way, I'm glad they did that. That arm was bad. I mean, really, really bad. Amputatably bad.
I close my eyes and fall inward. It's a technique I invented when we were here four years ago - kind of similar to the thing Westley does in The Princess Bride. Except I don't think about Buttercup. (What the hell kind of a name is Buttercup, anyway?) I don't think about Max. I don't think about anything. I just fall into a pitch black pool, sliding in like a knife into butter, leaving nothing but ripples behind. Not even a splash; just ripples, sliding on and on towards the nothingness that is me.
I sink into the pool slowly. The blackness is like liquid ebony; heavier than water, but lighter than melted chocolate, like the kind that Iggy makes for random occasions (i.e., when Max is craving it.) My path leaves a few white bubbles trailing back up to the surface. A light is coming from somewhere above me, I don't know where, because it's hitting the ripples that I made on the surface, which still wash outward, just as strong as they were before.
I fall for a little while. The surface grows fainter and fainter until I'm surrounded by only blackness. And yet, I can still see. I don't know why. It's not like there's anything to see. Only blackness.
It's funny. I'm surprised I can still do this. I haven't done it since I was - what, ten? But it still comes just as easily to me as it did then. I guess there's a certain amount of fear factor involved. I don't know the science of it. Probably because -
Wait. What's that? I swim toward it. It's a pinprick of light in the distance, and as I get closer, it takes on a shape. Rectangular, like a door. The light spears the blackness, and I squint. It gets bigger and bigger until I can see something through it. A silhouette? I suppose it is. It's a very familiar shape - tall, thin. But still blurry. I get even closer. Now I can make out some more details - thinning hair, circular glasses, caterpillar mustache. A long white coat and shiny brown shoes.
Holy -
It's Jeb.
But he's dead!
Does this mean I'm dead too?
He smiles and steps through the door. The door to what? The afterlife? I open my mouth to ask him, still swimming closer, but he walks past me, still smiling at nothing.
I panic. Jeb's not allowed in here! Not even his spirit! I swim towards him to tell him to get out, but he ignores me.
As I get closer to the light, my limbs get stiff and sore. My body gets cold. I can make out some square shapes...
I open my eyes.
Immediately the soreness worsens. The coldness digs in, hooking into every cell in my body. The square shapes get more defined. I can see Angel and Nudge, hunched over in their crates, their eyes widened in fear at something. Angel's eyes are rimmed in red, and tears are flowing down her face.
Max is leaned back in shock. Her hands are propped behind her, and her knees are drawn up, like she's just fallen back.
In front of her is Jeb.
NO!
This isn't happening, I think dazedly. There's no way that this is happening. I refuse to believe it. Jeb is not a traitor.
But he is.
I can literally hear the flick in my brain. Like a light switch turning on, everything that made Jeb my father flashes in front of my eyes. How he brought us away from this stinking cesspool. How he would laugh with us. He taught us to read. He taught us to fly. He taught Iggy to cook. He actually worked a lot more with Iggy than the rest of us, because Iggy had the hardest time adjusting. Jeb taught us how to shower. He built up our stamina for eating, so that we would be used to eating more than just a little bit every day - in the beginning, we threw up all the time. He held us when we had nightmares. He did it all. And this was the man that was standing in front of Max now, daring to show his stinking face, daring to even talk to Max.
Her face is white. Jeb murmurs to her, and she presses her lips together. He opens her crate and allows her to climb out, which she does. Then she disappears through the door.
Before she leaves, she puts two fingers together behind her back.
It was our symbol for "Wait."
Jeb had taught it to us.
The door shuts behind them with a click. It echoes through my brain feverishly. I fold my wings around me as best as I can and rest my head against them, not falling inside myself. I need to make sure Max comes back alive.
Something grips my wing. I open my eyes to see Nudge's shaking brown hand against the black, and I shift as best I can and lower my wing so that I can see her horror-struck face.
"That...was..." she says, her lips trembling. I put my olive hand over hers, and she flips her hand over and squeezes mine.
Okay, then.
Angel looks terrified. I get so mad when I think that anyone could be cruel enough to torture a six year old like that. She was only two when we left here, so she probably didn't remember it that well. And it wasn't like we exactly talked about it. But I guess now she has her own memories.
"Don't tell Max," Angel whispers, "but they showed me these...eyeball things. They were in a jar. Just floating around in there. And they were, like, really good vision. And they wanted to put them on Iggy. So he could see again. You know?"
"I think Iggy knew about those," I whisper back. "He told me. Some Erasers had some or something. Max probably knows about them too."
Angel squishes herself against the corner of the crate. Her wings fold around her, the feathers spreading to try to warm herself up. Nudge clutches my wing harder.
"Why was Jeb here?" she whispers.
Angel stifles another sob.
"I don't -" I cut myself off when the door opens and Max walks through. Her face is still white; shocked and livid. Angel's eyes widen at the sight of her, and she presses her hand to her mouth. What?
Jeb follows her. He opens the door for Max and she crawls in, adjusting quickly to the cramped space. Latching it behind her, he bends over to look her in the eye. "Remember," he whispers. "Trust me. That's all I ask. Just trust me. Listen to your gut."
He pivots on his shiny brown shoes and squeaks away over the linoleum. His coat flaps behind him like a flag of surrender, and Max swallows, narrowing her chocolate-brown eyes after him.
"You okay?" Angel whispers anxiously, peering at Max through the bars of her cage.
Max nods, her mouth tight. She meets Nudge's eyes for a moment, and then catches mine and locks there.
"I'm okay. Everyone hang tough, all right?"
I stare at her. Wait just one moment. What the HELL is going on? How can Max be so calm about this? Wait- is she-?
No. Max isn't a traitor too. There has to be a reason she's not saying anything to us. I mean, besides the obvious cameras and mikes she's so worried about. But why? Did Jeb tell her not to say anything about their chat? And if so, why is she doing what he says? It's not matching up to me.
Hours pass. Every bone in my body is aching. I can't believe my conditions. I haven't moved in God knows how long. My ankles are so sore; I think that if I so much as shift my position, I'll rip off a foot. My butt is killing me. It's like a fifteen hour car ride with no pit stops, except it never occurs to me to have to go to the bathroom...
After a bit, a whitecoat wheels in another crate. Inside is a...well, I can't really tell what it is. Its skin is covered in these growths that turn my stomach, and the rest of the skin is pink, like it's covered in a horrible rash - so bad, I can't even tell if the kid is white or black, male or female. It's slumped over in the crate, its rear in the air, hands pointing backwards. The crate gets parked next to Max; on the side that I can't see. She closes her eyes and turns away, her hands on her face.
A bit later, Angel starts crying. Max looks horrified, glancing into the crate. I guess the thing is dead.
I try to shift my position. Now all my limbs feel like they will be removed violently if I try to move them. Every bone in my body aches and screams for me to spread out and move some more. It's so bad, I can't even fall into myself, which at this point I would do gladly.
Finally, finally, the doors open. A bunch of people come in, and scattered among the white coats are a few much taller Erasers. The one in front is pushing a flatbed cart. All of them look happy and pleased about something. My heart sinks.
"I count only four," one man complains, sounding superior.
"Two bought it," says Ari. I see him for the first time, and my hands clench into fists. I still haven't paid him back for what he did to me back in Tipisco, and the day couldn't come fast enough. "Back in Colorado. This is what's left." He slams his fancy Italian boot into Max's crate. "Hi, Max. Miss me?" he says snidely.
"Is the Director quite sure about this?" asks a woman. "It seems a shame - there's so much more we could learn from them."
"Yes," says someone else, a man, I think. "It's just too risky. Given how uncooperative the little one has been."
Max gives Angel a thumbs up. Angel grins back weakly. She's too busy looking to see the fingers that grab her crate and swing it onto the cart. Her eyes widen. Then her crate slams onto the metal, and her bruised cheek hits the side. She winces. Nudge cries out briefly, then puts a hand over her mouth.
Then Ari grabs hold of Max's crate, dropping it next to Angel. I think the crate bounces a few times, and Max nearly bites through her lip. Ari grins through the bars, leering at her. I tense, my hands tightening even more. "Strong, like bull," he brags to Max.
"Your dad must be so proud," Max retorts quickly, and he punches her crate so hard it almost slides off the cart.
"Easy," a whitecoat murmurs, and Ari snarls murderously at them.
Another Eraser grabs me and loads me on top of Max. Nudge gets loaded on top of Angel, and we're off.
We rattle away into the hallway. It's so bright and perfect that I have to shield my eyes. The smell is enough to make my stomach churn like I'm standing in a garbage dump. I close my eyes and try to ignore the pain.
Something pokes me in the back. I open my eyes and see an Eraser looking at me.
"This one's pretty tough," it says. "Not a peep so far. I want to hear him scream."
I close my eyes again. Two seconds later, another Eraser pokes my arm.
"How does that feel, freak?" he grins. I stare at the long yellow nail that's pressing into my arm. If he pushes any harder he'll break the skin. I hope he doesn't. I don't want to get a toxic disease.
Ari joins them. "I see my daddy healed you all better," he grins. "Maybe you should learn a lesson from that. Don't mess with me. Or I'm gonna mess with you."
I can't help it. My head whips around and I snarl at him, my upper lip lifting. It's the first time I've shown anything here, and at first I get the reaction I want. They all jump in surprise, and everything is silent for a split second. Then every single Eraser in the room that saw it bursts out laughing. It's loud, raucous laughter that burns my ears.
"Ah!" Ari shrieks. "Ah, I'm so scared!" He doubles over with laughter.
I'm frozen. I have no idea what to do now.
"Little tight in there?" another Eraser hisses. Then all of a sudden they're all poking at me at once, and there's absolutely no way to avoid them. I feel like I'm caught in one of those closets with all the nails, except the cage is so small that I can't do anything. I madly twist away from the fingers, which only start poking harder.
"You can't run!" one of them shrieks.
"Let's see your FANGS!" Ari yells, and all of them crack up again. Someone kicks Max's crate, hard, making mine wobble dangerously. I grip the bottom, and Max grabs my fingers, squeezing briefly before letting go. I wrap my wings around me, clutching my legs even tighter to my chest so that they cover my whole body, except my head.
It doesn't get better. The Erasers jab and twist. They even pull out a few of my feathers, and then dance around madly with the black feathers held high above their heads. They even stick them through the bars and tickle my face and neck with them.
Finally, something happens. We take a sharp left and go through some doors, and we're outside. I look up at the sky. It's so clear and blue, not a single cloud in sight. I shake a little; it's so close, and yet so far...
Then I look at where we are. My heart starts pumping at about ten thousand times a minute. This is the yard in back of the School. The yard where the Erasers were trained to kill anything that got in their way. The yard where they brought down their prey.
I had been wondering why they were laughing so hard.
So the little technique Fang does? I like to think of that as him swimming inside his own eyes. Get it? :P R&R!