Remember

A/N: Well, this is Fang's POV. Personally, I like his side of it better because I think I nailed his character better than Max. To make myself miserable enough to write this, I hiked out into the woods alone with nothing but mysef, a pencil, and a composition book, and sat there in the freezing rain for a few hours. Fun, fun, fun! Not. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

NSRQ: "Something is scratching its way out, something you want to forget about. -from "Little House" by The Fray"

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Light was pouring in from the window, pooling into a sunbeam against my wings. I would've closed the blinds to cut off the light, but that would've required effort and I didn't care enough to do anything about it.

I tried not to care. But it was really hard.

I kept my back to the window, determinedly facing away from the awesome view off the mountain. I'd picked this room for the view. The scene of the forest hundreds of feet below us, the great expanse of land, and the even greater expanse of the flawless sky. It was the kind of image that made my wings itch, calling me into flight.

But I didn't want to fly anymore. Because he had taught me how to use my wings. Because flying made me think of them. And I didn't want to be reminded of any of them.

But the problem with not thinking about something is that you've got to think of it to do it.

I curled tighter, tucking my knees underneath my chin, trying to silence my raging stomach. I hadn't eaten for days, besides quick snacks stolen from the refrigerator when I could be sure that they were sleeping. I didn't want to face any of them, especially not her. I knew she was disappointed in me- maybe even mad.

So I stayed in here, locked in my room. Just me and my sketchbook.

I glanced over at my bed, where I'd hidden the small, black book underneath the mattress. He had given it to me for my birthday a few months ago. Said that he'd seen me drawing, and that I could be really good if I developed it. It had seemed like a stupid idea at first- drawing is for little kids with crayons- but after he…

I forced my forehead to touch my knees, sealing my eyes shut. If I didn't think about it, it wouldn't be real.

But I couldn't help remembering.

I became dimly award of voices outside my door. Lowered to a volume quieter than that used at a deathbed, but I could hear them all the same. Him and her.

"You sure?" he asked.

"He's been acting weird for months. He been in there for a week and a half. Yes, I'm sure!" she answered hotly.

Voice dropping even lower, he warned her, "He's in a bad way, Max. I don't think he'll appreciate seeing you."

Softer this time, she pleaded, "Iggy, I have to try. We can't just leave him in there."

He sighed. I could hear him digging in his pocket, pulling out something metallic. "Alright. But be careful with him And don't say I didn't warn you."

She didn't respond.

Then I heard the scrape of invading metal in my doorknob. He was picking the lock.

I lifted my head just in time to see the lock turn with a click. There was a small shuffling of feet and then the door opened a bit and she slipped in.

My heart had been frozen in a cryogenic state the last few weeks, but it still twinged at the sight of her. I hadn't seen her in a while- out of all of them, I'd been avoiding her the most.

She looked awful. Her face showed the slightest hints of lines. She seemed thinner than usual, paler as well. Worse of all were her eyes: the hazel irises that bloomed in the center of the white were dull, withered away almost. I could see it all written there- weariness, worry, sadness, pity, pain- accompanied by dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights.

I was twelve. I'd only been out of that place for two years. I didn't know much about beauty. But I knew she had it.

I looked away.

She closed the door behind her. Hesitating, she slowly moved towards me, watching her step as though I was some wild creature that could lash out at her any moment. She paused and then sat down across from me, just inches away. Close enough to touch.

I could feel her watching me and, as always, my gut squirmed underneath her gaze.

"Hey."

It was a single word, a simple greeting. But it was the first she'd spoken to me directly in weeks.

I couldn't help it- I glanced up at her, trying hard not to glare and failing miserably. It was a big mistake. This close to her, there was no missing the slight puffiness of her eyes, the way they shone red. There was no way to overlook the trails of salt glimmering like spider webs on her cheeks. And there was not a chance of me not knowing that she'd been crying.

Like I always did, I wanted to put my arm around her shoulders and tell her it was alright and promise her to make sure everything was okay, even though we both knew it wasn't in my power. I'd try anyway.

But I bit back the urge.

She spoke again. "Can I stay here? With you?"

I didn't answer her. But she wasn't an idiot; all of my body language- the clenched hands to avoid contact, the folded knees to set up personal space, the hunched shoulders to send a warning- screamed a loud and clear NO!

I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to hear her plea, to listen to her bully me out of the room. I didn't want to be around her anymore- it hurt too much.

She ignored my go-away vibes, crossing her legs Indian style. "It's okay if you don't want to talk," she added gently. "But I'm going to stay with you whether you want me to or not."

I cut the glare off, turning away from her. The light coming through the window danced in my peripheral vision. On the other edge of my sight line was the closest thing I'd ever had to a best friend. Though I wasn't sure if 'friend' was the correct word anymore.

She was an impatient person and I had nothing better to do with however much time I had left of my life. All I had to do was wait it out. Eventually, she'd leave. I could ignore her until then.

Of course, I'd forgotten how stubborn she could be.

The seconds turned into minutes. The minutes turned into hours. I watched the shadows lengthen against the wall I was facing. I watched the sunlight fade, only to be replaced by glowing moonlight. And she watched me.

Much as I tried not to notice her presence, I couldn't help but wonder. What did she want out of me? What did she expect me to say? Best of all- why did she even care?

I hadn't moved since I'd turned away from her- nearly seven hours ago. My lips just barely twitched now. "What do you want?"

She flinched- I hadn't intended for it to sound so hostile. But her voice didn't quaver as she answered me. "I don't need anything."

"I said what do you want, not what do you need. There's a difference."

She hesitated. I could feel her eyes, resting on me. "I want… I want to know what's wrong so I can fix it."

"You can't fix me."

She swallowed hard. "That's not what I meant, Fang. You should know that." Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence. She scooted closer to me. I tried to inch away, but she persisted until she was right next to me, so close her wing brushed against mine. She laid her hand on my shoulder and I shivered.

"Don't touch me." They weren't mean words- they came out in a deadpan. But I could tell that they had hurt her nevertheless. She withdrew her hand, folding it with her other in her lap.

Suddenly, she whispered in a horrible, choking voice, "Is it- because of me? I'm sorry, what ever it is."

I risked a glance in her direction, her face screwed up in an effort to keep tears in. Before I could stop myself, I murmured, "Don't cry, Max. I'm not worth it." Her name stung on my tongue.

She shook her head fiercely. "You're worth everything, Fang."

The tears were coming now. Without even thinking about it, I wiped them away with the back of my hand. "You didn't do anything wrong," I promised her. Of course, that didn't mean she hadn't done anything…

The moment she stopped crying, I edged away from her, cursing myself for being so weak. She didn't try to get close to me this time, allowing me to establish some space between me and her. But it was too late- all of the resistance I'd built up so that I could endure had been shattered by seeing Max cry. She was special that way- only she could make my defenses crumble to dust. I couldn't deny Max anything.

And she had no idea.

Withholding a frustrated sigh, I looked towards her, wondering where to begin. "Part of it is… Jeb," I started reluctantly. The name burned, as did the memories accompanying it. Max's head shot up in surprise; clearly, she hadn't expected me to talk.

Her hazel eyes probed me and I struggled to continue. "He was like… a father. He saved us. And now he's- gone." I couldn't bring myself to say it, what we all knew- that Jeb was dead. Jeb had saved me two years ago, probably just in time. I doubt I could've lasted through another year of cages, experiments, needles, the tests...

No. Don't think about it and you won't remember. Don't remember. I repeated to myself a few more times, the motto that I practically lived by these days.

I toyed with one of my shoelaces, extremely uncomfortable. I wasn't good at this sort of thing. "And now… we're really on our own out here. We're just kids. What are we supposed to do?" None of us had asked this yet. Being the oldest by a few measly months, Max had taken up the in-charge role. The younger ones trusted her whenever she guaranteed them that everything would be fine. But Iggy and I knew better.

Max looked incredibly tired. She rubbed her eyes on her shirtsleeves, erasing the salt's paths before they dried. "I don't know," she muttered truthfully. "I really have no idea. But- we'll figure something out."

I nodded, a sort of dread shifting in my gut. Max was twelve- she couldn't take care of five other kids by herself. That left me second-in-command. And as immensely grateful as I was that I wasn't leader, I didn't know how to be second-in-command either. I grew up in the School. What did I know about taking care of kids? What did I know about being in charge- partially, at least?

"Yeah- well… that's part of it," I said. A very small part. "The other part is…" I trailed off, not sure of how to continue. There just wasn't good enough words to express what was going on.

To explain how I might be dying.

And why that scared me so much.

Lately, there had been holes in my memory. It wasn't like I'd faint or anything. I'd just be doing something and all of a sudden, the next time I'd look at a clock , half an hour will have gone by. The time just seemed to disappear. Like- maybe I was losing my grip on reality. Maybe my brain was shutting down… maybe my DNA was starting to fall apart.

Not good.

I turned back to Max to try to explain all of this, but when my eyes met hers, the words got stuck in my throat. I couldn't tell her. Max had enough on her plate to deal with without having to worry about me too.

Which led us to the root of the problem:

If I died, nobody would care.

And why should they?

"Fang?" I blinked and returned my focus to Max. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she murmured.

I shook my head. I wanted her to understand. I struggled with the words, trying to find the right sounds. "No… it's just that- if I were to… leave, then no one would care."

Max's eyes flashed angrily. "What do you mean no one would care? And what do you mean leave? Where are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere," I replied darkly.

"Then-" Max interrupted herself off, glaring at my arms suspiciously.

I almost rolled my eyes. Pushing up my shirt sleeves, I held out my unmarred arms. "I'm not cutting." It kind of hurt that she would even think that.

Max looked relieved for a moment, and then her face turned to worry again. "Then why are you talking about- dying?"

I looked away from her, trying to shield myself. "That's not the point."

"Then what's the point?"

"That if I were to leave, no one would miss me."

Max's face softened. She stared me down for a moment and then breathed, "You know that's not true."

I didn't respond in any way.

"Fang…" She moved closer to me, ignoring my body language again. "Fang, how can you think that? Of course we'd miss you. We need you. I need you." She reached out to touch one of my hands, but I flinched away from her.

Bitterly, I answered, "They might miss the things I do, but they won't miss me." I felt some traitorous tears emerging and I forced them back in. I was not going to cry.

Max was silent for a while. I could feel her studying me and I was reminded of the whitecoats' gazes. Only this one was much, much more tender.

Max reached out again and grabbed my chin, forcing me to looked at her. Reluctantly, I met her hazel eyes. She spread her hand, pressing her palm against my cheek. "You really are an idiot sometimes, you know that?" she whispered. "I know I depend on you a lot more than I should, and I definitely ask too much out of you. But this is hard for me too, and I need you."

She blinked, and I could see a tiny, upside-down 'me' in her pupils. "But don't you dare think for a moment that I don't want you here too," Max declared. "You're my best friend. You're funny and trustworthy and brave and a whole lot smarter than I am… when you're not being an idiot."

I indulged myself in a small, tentative smile. Relieved at my effort, Max smiled back, pulling me into a tight hug. Speaking gently in my ear, she said, "I know I don't say this a lot- and apparently I should- but I love you. You, not what you do. You're a human, Fang, not an appliance."

I swallowed hard at her words, hesitantly hugging her back. "Thank you," I muttered.

"Just don't scare me like that."

"Sorry."

She laughed softly, running her fingers through my down feathers- a gesture just for me. I closed my eyes, remembering. When we were in the School, after the whitecoats brought me back from my bi-weekly psychiatric "tests", she would stick her thin fingers through the gap in the wall of her crate and stroke my feathers to help me forget for a while.

I never could forget completely, but for a moment, everything would be perfect.

Just like now.

Max fell asleep not too long after that. I laid her on my bed and watched her all night- thinking. The next morning, I ate breakfast with the Flock.

Max and I never talked about it again.

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A/N: Poor Fangie. In case you didn't quite pick up on some of the things, Fang wasn't dying; he was having memory lapses because his power was manifesting. And the "tests" were because of his Reverse NPD; the whitecoats were tracking his progress carefully, but these tests were not a walk in the park... but you'll find out more about that later on in ALPCG.

Reviews would be wicked sweet.