Author's Note: Just keep reading, because I don't have much to say for this chapter, except for it was long awaited.

Seven years after The Angel Experiment, ah, those were good times. This chapter was inspired by Sanctuary by Utada Hikaru and I Hate This Part by The Pussycat Dolls.

Summary: His weren't the only eyes that could see what should be. She'd once saw it, too. And it wasn't too late for her to open her eyes again.

Ages: Iggy: 21 Nudge: 18

Third Person POV:

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The young woman in the chic blue sweater was looking for someone.

The young man in the checkered Vans was looking for someone.

The girl goes to a college and starts toward the dorms. Everytime she sees a pair of faded jeans or a head of red hair she stops and stares but it's never him. So she enters the guy's dorms, a number scribbled on her hand. She ignores the hoots and catcalls and approaches door '415'. She's smiles, because it's his birthday.

She doesn't knock- she never has before. Everything's just like she remembers even though she hasn't been here before. But he's always neat and precise: clothes in a dresser to the right, bed by the window, desk right next to the bathroom. There's a poster of a motorcycle and photographs of birds on the walls but, strangely, no pictures of girls. She takes this as a good sign. She notices the walls, the carpet, the furniture are all white.

She stands by the window and wonders how many times he's jumped out of it. She smiles, shakes her heads, and leaves the school.

The boy walks around New York City. He never found out where she was living so he decides to walk around Fifth Avenue. If she was anywhere, she'd be there. He tries Apple Democracy, and Eternally Eighteen, and New Marines, asking if they've seen her. The sales ladies are annoying helpful. But that's a small price to pay for being good-looking. Still none of them have a seen her. He thinks she maybe be a place that's more relaxed..

He hops on a bus and gets off 'where the fun is'. When he enters the toy store he has a sensory overload. There's so many sounds and shapes he can't make out and everytime he touches something he gets a jolt of bright color. But never a familiar brown. He determines she's not there and leaves. Up over-ground he goes into a coffee shop and as he waits in line he listens to a poetry reading. He was never one for poetry, he prefers fast paced music, but he's enticed anyway. It's a short but flowing poem about snow and mirrors and not seeing clearly until its too late. He's so busy hoping it's not too late that he doesn't notice the barista asking his order until the eighth time.

He orders a mocha without hesitation.

The girl has searched every place he could be and quite a few he couldn't. She knows New York is a big place but she won't rest until she finds him. Okay, maybe a short rest on a bench in Central Park. A gyspy woman comes up to her and offers to read her palm. She holds it out and the old woman looks at her with knowing eyes. The woman tells her love is blind. She tells her she knows.

The boy has almost given up searching. He sits on the marble stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He listens to the street artists work: the buzz of spray cans and the scratch of pencils. He gets up and asks one of the artists if he can feel the picture. The artists agrees and he runs a hand over the sketch. It's a broken heart. When the artist turns away, he takes a piece of chalk and mends it.

She remembers the exact moment she fell for him. She didn't know she would grow to love him. Back then it was an acute fasination.

They were in New York City in a church. They'd never been in one before. Their family knelt in the pews and prayed. And she noticed he didn't pray for sight, he could wish for that, but he prayed for them to be safe and happy. And that was enough for her. Because with him, she was always safe and happy.

He remembers the exact moment he fell for her. He knew it was love, even though he couldn't name it exactly.

She was somewhere far away and it was his fault. If he'd shut up and been supportive and unselfish then she might have stayed. Or she might have said goodbye. So he looks faces the stars and wonders if she can see them where she is. He unconsciously puts a hand to the sky and imagines she does too. And he can feel her fingers in his and that's enough.

Nudge brushes off her blue sweater and rises from the park bench. When no one is in sight she takes a running start and flies high above the city. She looks down and searches and searches and with her eyes cast downward she flies into someone.

Iggy is flying so fast he doesn't feel the person ahead of him. It certainly doesn't feel like a bird. His checkered Vans kick someone in the knees and he apologizes quickly.

"It's okay... Iggy," Nudge says.

"Nudge. I was... looking for you."

"Yeah. Me too."

"So... I've found you."

"Yeah. And I found you."

There's a silence. When did things get so awkward between us, they both wonder.

"Let's land," Iggy suggests, "I mean, if you want to."

"That's fine," Nudge says hastily. She points to an old building, only upon further inspection does she realize its a church. Iggy follows her and they sit on a ledge, with gargoyles on both sides. Nudge looks at the cars, the statues, the smog clouds, anywhere but at the birdkid- birdman beside her. Iggy does the same- only he listens to the honks and shouts below instead of the breathing pattern of his birdgirl.

"I went to the university earlier."

"I would have gone to your school but I don't know it."

"I'm not going to school just yet. I got an internship at a fashion line."

"Guess we're lucky its not a radio station."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because the world would have to listen to you talk even more. Oh the horror!" Iggy fake gasps. Nudge makes a move to slug him in the shoulder but he catches her wrist. He quickly lets go and Nudge drops her hand. Silence.

"I hate flying in New York," Nudge says suddenly.

"How come?"

"The air," Nudge wrinkled her nose, "It's so thick and unclear. All the smog and stuff, I don't like it. It never smells clean like Colorado. And you can't see the sky."

Iggy thinks for a second, "Wait here." Iggy jumps off the roof of the church and after dropping several yards he bursts through the clouds. Nudge watches him fly far and fast around the moon. When he comes down, the sky for miles around the moon is clear.

"You do too much for me."

"You can't do it yourself little girl," Iggy says, out of breath.

"Sexist pig."

"The one and only. Just keep watching that spot." So, Nudge does and after a few moments, something sleek and silver cuts across the sky.

"Iggy! A shooting star!" Nudge exclaims, with the pure excitement of an eleven year old, "You can make a wish!"

"It's alright. I've learned that you can't just wish. You have to make it happen."

"There are something's you can't make happen," Nudge retorts, "You can't take over the world, or make yourself anyone else, or make someone your servant."

"But you can make someone love you," Iggy half whispers. Something flutters in his stomach and he wonders if this is the right time. It is.

"How?"

"By being adorable and energetic. Being fun and distracting in a good way. By wanting to make things brighter for everyone and not letting anything put you down. By being naive sometimes yet one of the few things that make life bearable. By being someone who, if given a golden opportunity, will take it, but still rather have those you really care about. By being a good, sweet person. You can make someone love you," Iggy takes a deep breath but says in barely a whisper, "And you do that to me."

Nudge's eyes widen to impossible proportions, "Iggy-"

"No Nudge. Let me finish," the corner of his mouth quirks up, "I've heard from you for quite awhile. You know, you learn a lot about someone in fourteen years," Iggy focuses on the bright spot of the sky, "So technically I haven't known you my whole life. But it feels like I have. My life got better when you came around. Sure we were still stuck in hell-on-earth but I had someone to talk to, to sleep next to, to try and protect. I had someone to care about. You don't know how much better of a person that made me. Then that operation made me blind and I wanted to die. Seriously. That night I was wondering if a freefall in the training yard would be enough to kill me or whether death-by-Eraser would be faster. Then you came over and heard me mumbling and you said,

'I'll take care of you' and fell asleep. Snoring of course. But I wanted that to be my job. So we grew up and grew apart but I always had your smile, the last one I ever saw, in the back of my mind. And as I grew up it was in the front of my mind more often. I felt it was wrong, you're like my little sister for goodness sake, but I couldn't help it. You make it hard work not to like you and I'm lazy.

It's hard to find the courage to say: I love you. But with you, Nudge, I have that courage."

The symphony of cars, concerts, and people disappears. There is nothing but silence, the two mutants, and that bright spot in the sky. Nudge finally finds her voice, "Iggy-"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out it's just so much better to get it off my chest and then you'll never have to speak to me-"

For the first time, Nudge slaps her hand over Iggy's mouth, "It's my turn to be the chatterbox again.

You're funny and very, very, very cute. You have enough of that big brother act to be sweet but not creepy. I adore how you can brush things off, but how emotional you can be. When Angel was kidnapped and when you couldn't find you're parents. I get that you're arrogant and blunt, but, Iggy, you're understanding even more.

Do you remember that time we were on a beach and you took a walk with me? I told you I was scared and you told me it would be okay. From then on everything was okay when you were around.

I love how you're patient with me. I know that if you're offered what you wants, you'll take the chance, but never forget what you're leaving behind. Whether its memories of the School, the way I look, the feel of shells, I love how you don't forget. To someone like me who's most scared of being alone and forgotten that's a really good thing."

"Would you say it? If you felt it?"

"What? That I love you? Of course. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Get it?"

"I think I've got it," Iggy says quietly. Nudge presses her shoulder against Iggy and he wraps his hand around hers. And this time when they turn to each other in there's no hesitation to close the space between them. As the space lessened Nudge noticed Iggy forever smelled like Coke and ash and Iggy noticed Nudge's face was especially flushed. And when their lips met it's like flying through the clouds, chasing a star, or letting yourself fall.

A few feverous minutes later they pull apart, smiling widely.

"I guess this is the end of our friendship?"

"And the start of something better."

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