A/N: This is for pancakes-for-you. Thanks for believing in me and genuinely caring about the universe I have built here. xo


SEVEN

An hour later we were all showered, bundled up in warm pajamas, and lounging the living room. Well—they were lounging. I was pacing a hole into the carpet.

My genius opening argument was, "We need a plan."

Iggy, whose subdued frustration had graduated into full blown anger, threw his hands in the air and shouted, "What a novel idea!"

"I think it involves us retracing our steps," I said, ignoring him.

He groaned and pressed his hands to his face, mumbling, "Oh, here we go…"

Nudge was clearly pissed: her skinny arms were crossed tightly over her chest and she was glowering severely at me. "And by that you mean…?"

"I'm… not totally sure yet."

"If you're suggesting we go back to Boston again—"

"I'm not suggesting anything right now, Nudge," I huffed back.

Iggy groaned. "Please don't make us go to School."

"Or the Institute," Nudge added.

"Or Itex."

"Or Anne's."

"Or that forest."

"Or Colorado."

"Or D.C."

I wanted to scream. "That is literally everywhere we've ever been!"

"Wonder if that has any significance," Nudge said under her breath.

"Wait! Maybe that has something to do with it!" Gazzy exclaimed, looking excited.

"What, our debilitating hatred of everywhere we've ever lived?"

The Gasman ignored him. "Remember finding Iggy's parents? And all the other junk about maybe the rest of our parents there?"

Iggy frowned deeply at this, looking moderately troubled by the memory.

"Oh, yes," he grumbled. "That's a time I look back on fondly."

"No—what I mean is, like, do you think all of that crap was a trap?"

"What? My parents? They seemed like the real deal. A shitty deal, but they were legit."

Gazzy shrugged. "Maybe. But what if that was all fake, too? Like, what about when you thought you found Nudge's mom in Arizona?" he said to Fang. Nudge visibly wilted at the memory, but Gazzy plunged on. "What if all the leads we thought we had were all fake and planted by the School or Vector or Jeb?"

"Maybe," Fang said from the other side of the living room. He shot a glance my way, and I knew he was thinking of the crack house back in D.C. where we'd found the photo of baby Gazzy. "Probably. Who knows what we can believe?"

"Or," Gazzy added excitedly, looking as though he were about to allege that Bigfoot and UFOs and the Loch Ness Monster were real, "what if they were all decoys? What if none of this is even real?"

Iggy had reached his tipping point. "This isn't Inception, Gaz. Get a grip."

"No, you idiot!" Gazzy, who rarely lost his patience with Iggy, looked ready to throttle him. "I'm just saying that there's a chance that everything that happened in D.C. was total bullshit."

"Gazzy," I warned, but he didn't apologize for his language.

Angel had said nothing this entire time. I looked to her and she gave me her classic unconvincing I'm okay stare. I really hoped mine was more believable than hers.

Nudge groaned frustratedly and collapsed onto the couch. "So just say it, then."

I'd never been so acutely aware of the fact that Nudge was a teenager. I sighed with waning patience.

"Say what, Nudge?"

"What you've been avoiding saying this whole time." I could've sworn there were tears in her eyes, but she looked away before I could be certain. "We're on the run again."

"Yes and no," I said slowly. Nudge let out an exaggerated groan, but I plowed on. "I'm confident that nobody besides us and the Martinezes know about this house. The Feds absolutely would've come here first if they knew it existed."

"Meaning what, exactly?" Iggy said.

"Meaning we still have a home to come back to."

"Okay, but then why do we have to run away from it?" Nudge lamented. "I'm so done with running. I thought it was over."

Her dejected voice broke my heart. I crossed the living room and stood behind the couch to rub her shoulders.

"Me too, Nudge. But we can't work or go to school or do anything if they have our photos."

"They only have your photo. And you look way different in it. There's no way anyone at the restaurant knows it's you. And even if they do, so what? I can get a job. We can live on less. We can stay out of public. We pulled it off for all those years at the E-house. What makes it so different now?"

"It's not a risk we can take," Fang said with an air of finality. "We have to fix it, Nudge."

"Okay, so what?" Nudge said hotly. "We search the eastern seaboard for an FBI agent we can throw against a wall and threaten until they call the whole search off? We break into the White House and take over? We steal the Declaration of Independence? We go back to that stupid Applebee's and see if Vector is still there even though we blew them up?"

I stopped rubbing her shoulders and looked at Fang, who blinked a few times in surprise.

"Uh, yeah," I said. "That seems like a pretty good place to start."


I couldn't tell whether Nudge was furious about or proud of her brilliant suggestion, and I don't think she could either. As we gathered our things in preparation for a departure the next day, she oscillated viciously between lamenting about leaving school ("It's junior year, Max! I'll never be ready for the SATs!") and humble-bragging about her idea ("I mean, it only makes sense, you know? It's the only logical thing. A no brainer").

Leaving meant a few things. For one, we had to make sure we were untraceable. We were lucky to not have our fingerprints anywhere in the Government's system—Anne had tried that one on us when we we'd stayed with her the first time, but since I'm not a complete fucking idiot it had been a hard stop from me—but we still had cellphones tied to very real government identities. Cellphones that, judging by the spookily relevant advertisements on Nudge's Instagram page, listened to us talk.

They had to go.

This was particularly difficult for Nudge, whose phone was her biggest connection to being a normal teenager. It seemed like I was making her more and more miserable by the hour, and as much as that bothered me, I didn't really have a choice.

"So you flipped out saying we have to leave, but now we're…?"

"Here for a few days, yes."

"And you get to keep your phone because…"

I sighed and pressed my fingers to my temples, begging a God I didn't believe in to grant me some freaking patience. When I was her age, I didn't have the time to be a real teenager. Nudge, though, was as run-of-the-mill sixteen as they came in most ways. Aside from the thirteen-foot wings and debilitating PTSD, that is.

"Because Dr. Martinez knows my number. She or Ella will be able to call me."

"Yeah, if they're not in the slammer," muttered Iggy.

"Nobody is going to jail." Fang's voice, deep and final, cut through the thin desert air. "We need to be smart. Play this right."

"'Play?'" Nudge said bitterly.

Fang offered her a hard, unforgiving stare. "Nudge. Enough."

Nudge wilted. Fang didn't get angry with the kids often, but when he did, they listened to him unquestioningly. I, on the other hand, had apparently lost all credibility with them.

Yeah. Me. The leader.

Leaving also meant we'd likely be fighting again. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. It had been years since we'd needed to fight, so Fang and I had decided sparring would be an essential part to our success on this mission. Plus, it was a great outlet for our frustrations and stress.

The six of us piled out of the house and onto the front lawn. Nudge's arms were crossed tightly over her chest. I wasn't convinced they'd ever uncross again.

"Okay, so now what?" said Gazzy. He was the least perturbed by all of this, and I felt a swell of affection and pride. From his earliest days he was the most relaxed and content of babies. This had barely faded with age. When hardship or arguments came our way, he'd shrug and say the same thing: I'm just happy to be here.

"Now we pair off."

Gazzy grinned. "You mean like the old days?"

"Like the old days."

The old pairings, of course, had been by age: Me and Fang, Iggy and Nudge, Gazzy and Angel. As we'd gotten older, though, it became clear that Fang and I knew each other's tells to well to have a strategic spar. At the same time, Iggy's soft spot for Nudge had grown to be so soft that I doubted he'd ever lay a finger on her.

While I would never hurt Nudge, I felt this could be a good opportunity to enhance her fighting techniques. Plus, she was pissed at me. Maybe an opportunity to pound on me would benefit her. And while the tension between them had resolved a bit over the last years, Fang and Iggy seemed to always appreciate an opportunity to do the ol' boys-will-be-boys kind of thing.

Fang and Iggy claimed their space about a hundred feet away and began discussing the terms of their duel. Angel and Gazzy did the same. Nudge and I found ourselves in the center of the yard. She was glowering at me.

"Don't go easy on me."

"Never."

"Liar," she said. "C'mon. If you actually want me to learn to fight, you have to teach me."

"Oh, I'll teach you, alright. Let's go. Quit stalling."

I'd sparred with Nudge a handful of times before, so I knew she'd always been a good fighter. She was perceptive, quick, and brutal when she wanted to be, and she learned and adapted in real time. Her movements around me were nimble, and she actually genuinely surprised me with a few good hits.

There was no way she'd beat me, though, and I knew she'd see right through me if I let her, so I only let it play out for a couple of minutes. Unfortunately, my fight-ending kick accidentally turned out to be too well-placed: my boot connected powerfully with her diaphragm. A gasping sort of whine came out of her immediately. She collapsed in the dirt on her back with an oof, sucking for air.

I pulled her upright and forced her to put her head between her knees. "Oh, my God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to kick you there at all, I totally mistimed it."

She was gasping for air still but nodding at me, trying to speak. "Fine," she finally choked out. "Wind…"

"Just breathe, it'll come back." I rubbed her back. "Jeez, Nudge, I'm sorry." She waved her hand in the air vaguely, still huffing and puffing.

Iggy was at our side in an instant, looking absolutely furious.

"Jesus rollerblading Christ, Max, you can't just roundhouse her in the solar plexus!"

I opened my mouth to snap back at him before noticing the stream of blood gushing from his nose.

"But it's okay that Fang broke your nose for the fiftieth time?"

He had the tact to look slightly embarrassed and frowned. "It's different with us and you know that."

"What," Nudge snarled, still swallowing air hungrily, "because you're big manly men?"

"Because we're evenly matched!" he insisted. I considered arguing that Fang had not only several pounds of muscle over Iggy but also sight, but recognized that this would be counterproductive. "And listen, if you think this is bad, you should see the other guy."

I was immediately grateful that I hadn't suggested they may not be evenly matched when I laid eyes on Fang. He was beaten to hell, too. One cheek was impressively bruised already, and his sweats were ripped at the thigh. I caught a glimpse of the ugly puckered scar from the night he'd broken into Gideon Goodchurch's condo and frowned; he would've bled out on the island if it hadn't been for Iggy.

"The other guy is fine," Fang said, but he was working his jaw in his mouth and favoring his leg. "Everyone okay?"

Nudge, who was finally able to actually fill her lungs with air, nodded. And—get this—she was smiling.

"Man, that was fun! I forgot how fun ass-kicking was!" I opened my mouth to comment on her word choice, but she glowered at me. "I am sixteen years old, Max! Let's go again."

"No way," I said, waving my hands. "Nope. You did really good, Nudge. Why don't you teach Angel some of your moves?"

"What, you think I can't take it?" she said, offended.

"Oh, I know you can take it. I'm just not sure if Iggy can."

Iggy grinned impishly at this. "You're on."

I dove at him quickly, slide-tackling him in attempt to swipe his feet out from underneath him, but he sidestepped quickly. His eyes were shut as he focused on whatever world he saw around him. I rolled out of the way and popped back up to my feet; he whipped one of his giant pewter wings out and whacked me in the head with it. I swore and ducked.

"Oops," he said innocently.

I ran at him again, this time reading his body language and anticipating his dodge to the left. I wrapped my leg behind his knee and shoved his shoulder and he went toppling over, but not before grabbing me and bringing me down with him. I scrabbled off of him, but one of his long arms grabbed the back of my sweatshirt and tugged.

I wormed my way out of the sweatshirt and crouched, adjusting my shirt and appreciating how much better Iggy's fighting had gotten since the enhancement of his senses. He'd been a great fighter considering the circumstances his entire life, but now it was hard to believe that he was blind.

I jumped in the air and snapped open my wings, beating hard, stirring dirt on the ground below us. Iggy's arms went up over his head and he staggered for a second, losing focus. I took this as an opportunity to drop down on him, landing my heel to his shoulder and forcing him down again.

He wrapped his arms around me and rolled me underneath him, pinning me with his weight and his gangly limbs. I flailed but he matched my every move expertly.

Everything was fine until it wasn't. He was holding pressure on my neck with his forearm and without warning my body snapped back to the cold floor of Vector—but only for a split second. But it was enough. As Gazzy knelt beside us and declared me "pinned," my flailing turned to desperate clawing for freedom and I gasped like a fish.

Iggy noticed immediately. He scrambled off of me and knelt at my side, still trying to catch his breath. His hand brushed my shoulder. Okay?

The moment passed just as quickly as it came. I nodded without meeting his eyes and felt the adrenaline seep out of my bloodstream, felt my lungs fill with the cool November air. Iggy stood up and brushed his hands off on his pants before reaching down to help haul me to standing.

He wiped his still-bleeding nose on the back of his sleeve and laughed.

"Lost your touch, huh, Max?"

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled. Impressed as I was, I wasn't going to admit that he'd completely just kicked my ass.

I looked to Fang, whose face was amused, mouth flipped up into a tight but teasing smile. I knew he'd seen my momentary lapse in sanity and silently challenged him to bring it up.

"Can it," I snapped. He held his hands up innocently.

"Anyone else wanna go?" Iggy said, puffing his chest out and walking in a wide circle around the group. "I'm on a streak!"

Angel giggled. Gazzy and Nudge started taking little jabs at him as he dodged with truly unbelievable accuracy.

"I'm undefeated!" Iggy bellowed.

Fang and I were shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed over our chests, watching with matching looks of amusement.

"So he did beat you."

Fang's lips twitched and he tilted his head noncommittally. "We'll let him think he did."

"Ah," I said. "Yes. Of course."

He paused for a moment before saying, "You good?"

I turned slightly to meet his eyes. Unreadable, per usual.

"Always."

He watched me for another long moment before turning back to where the other four were messing around. He wouldn't admit it, but I knew he wanted to freeze this moment in time just as badly as I did.

He put a hand on my shoulder and rubbed his thumb gently along my collarbone, still avoiding my eyes. "Me too."


A/N: I have a few days off and am really hoping to actually write unless interest has been lost in this story, in which case I will discontinue it. Let me know. Thanks for the love and support after my last update. If I do continue, it will be on a very low-pressure basis—no forced chapter lengths, no obsessing over sentence structure, no holding myself to an unrealistic standard in terms of story development or how well anything is written, as I am certainly do not have a BA in English or anything close to it.

my love,

staph