Hey there. I'm back. Though I never really left. Whatever. I decided to begin this journey without a huge gap in between the stories, because (with a bout of inspiration and a lot of pleading) I finished the first chapter of this new story. So sit back, relax, and get ready for more awkward flock adventures that seem to come with me. This new story isn't the same as Made Again...I guess you could say that it's just less hopeful and happy-go-lucky. But you people seem to like that kind of stuff. So whether you've come all the way from the other end of my profile, or you're completely new (and if you are I strongly suggest reading the first part first), you all are completely welcome here. Just be sure to review :D

And here's a disclaimer, in which shall be the only one for the whole story: I do not own Maximum Ride by James Patterson. Or Iggy. Or pie.

'Tis a sad thing. But we should be celebrating. So now, I present to you people: Taken Again.

MAX

My eyes are always open. It's just natural to me. To be a leader, you always have to be alert. No one can ever sneak up on me, and if they try, I beat them down, just the way I like it. Sometimes I wonder how Iggy manages with his blindness.

Although now I'm starting to think I won't be able to ask him.

My name is Maximum Ride, and I'm an almost emotional wreck. With wings. I just can't forget the wings.

Never. Forget. The Freaking. Wings.

"Max."

A hand planted itself on my shoulder. I didn't look behind me. I just kept staring off of the rocky cliff I was standing at the top of, looking out at the beautiful, snowy valley that stretched for miles beyond our new house. The valley that even Gasman hadn't had the heart to blow up yet. Snow drifted down quickly, threatening to turn into a full-on blizzard within minutes. I didn't give a crap.

"Max." Fang deadpanned again, keeping his voice even and low. "Come inside."

"Why?" I asked in a monotone, keeping my gaze on the unchanging scenery. "Why should I, Fang?"

Fang huffed, and I could tell that he was hanging his head. His voice was thick and scratchy, and I almost snapped at him to stop talking so that it would get better, like I would if my voice wasn't the same. Like I would have when I had been a mom. Now I felt like nothing. I felt like an empty shell.

"Because." Fang croaked gruffly. "You'll freeze."

To prove his point, he brushed the developing layer of snow off of my head, and placed his huge leather jacket that he was so proud of on my shoulders. I dipped my chin down, not responding. If I took one step forward, just one little step, I could just fall forward, fall down to nothing. But if I just took one little look behind me, I'd see Fang looking at me with those dark, hollow eyes, and I'd see three small children with their faces practically pressed up against the glass. I'd see the people I had to keep living for.

Life just likes to punch me in the face now and again, what of it?

"So?" I rasped, keeping still. "So what?"

"So we have things to do." Fang tightened his grip on my shoulder. "You can't avoid him forever."

"Yeah, I probably could." I chuckled darkly. "We could have just left him there, right? Oh, excuse me Max, I'm your brother and I don't freaking remember you or anything associated with you. I'm going to try to hurt you know. Do you want some pie?"

"Max." Fang warned, but I was already off. I yanked my arm away from his grip, my eyes wild and brimming with the tears that weren't going to spill.

"Pie, Fang!" I cried, throwing my arms up. "It's freaking boysenberry! 'Cause it sucks!"

"Calm down." He muttered, grabbing my wrists. I shook my head, letting my now snow-soaked hair hang in my face in clumps.

"I don't wanna calm down!" I choked, trying to prevent myself from sobbing. It just wasn't fair. "He doesn't remember us, Fang!"

"And that's not our fault." Fang replied seriously. If this had been any other time, the corner of his mouth would be twitching with what could have been a smirk, he would chuckle and say something adorably stupid, and he would try to kiss me. I would back away and throw snow at him. He'd throw snow back and soon we'd have an all-out snowball fight, eventually falling onto each other and making that's what she said jokes without a care in the world.

But this wasn't any other time. This was now. And now wanted to make me suffer. It was just the way it worked.

Somebody get me a sledgehammer.

"It's my fault." I murmured, letting my head drop. "I didn't recognize that stupid clone, I didn't get us there fast enough, I didn't save him in time."

Suddenly Fang's arms were out and bringing me into an embrace, wrapping his arms over my shoulders and letting me disappear into his shirt. I took a deep breath, letting it shake. He wouldn't judge me. Not now.

"Are you ready?" He asked me softly, speaking into my hair. I nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

It had been thirteen days, eleven hours, and thirty-five minutes since we had rescued Iggy from the School-again. We had him back in one piece, whole body and soul. But no memories. The Wizard (douchebag of eternity, that guy was), as I had just gotten used to calling him, had taken Iggy from me. Again. But in an entirely different way than before. How was it that in five weeks, Iggy was kidnapped twice, beaten who-knows how many times, shot, replaced by an evil clone, and then had his memory completely wiped? It just wasn't right. We had tried so damn hard, and we got dirt shoved back in our face.

There was a reason that I had a dartboard with Jeb's face on it in my new bedroom.

Fang hooked his arm around my shoulders and started to lead me back to the house. Getting Iggy to believe that we weren't with the School and trying to kill him had been hard. Getting him to come with us to some random abandoned condo we illegally rented out in Canada with minimal fight had been even harder.

"What do you mean, who the hell are we?" Fang spat. "It's us, the flock! Max, Fang, Gasman. Iggy, come on, we have to get out of here."

"I don't know who you are." Iggy trembled, holding his arms up in defense. "Just get away from me."

"Iggy, it's us, your family." I said softly. "We're here to rescue you."

"I have no clue who you are, I'm serious." He squealed. "Don't take me back to the School, please."

"We're never going back to the School." Gasman choked out. "We're from there."

"You're a bird hybrid, like us." I told him, glancing around in astonishment. "You're our brother."

"I don't have a family." Iggy whispered. "I've never had one."

"We have to get out of here!" Fang said harshly. "Iggy, come on."

Crashes and shouts started to sound from outside the van. A gun fired, and Nudge screamed in shock. Gasman hit her to shut her up.

"But I don't know who you are." Iggy growled.

"I'm your sister." I hissed back, trying to keep my brain under control and yanking him up to his unsteady feet. "And I'm a hell of a lot better option than what's waiting out there with guns. So come on."

"O-Okay."

Trust. The one thing that I thought I could place whole-heartedly and without a doubt into Iggy and likewise back into myself had been run over by a truck and put down the garbage disposal of evil. Twice.

My cold, shaking fingers tried to grasp the back door handle and failed. Fang put his warm hand around mine and pulled the door open, letting me shake like a dog as I stepped inside. All the kids plopped themselves on the living room furniture solemnly, Nudge listlessly flipping through a fashion magazine. Angel looked at her feet as she kicked them out rhythmically, and Gazzy played with his thumbs. I smiled weakly at them as I walked toward the kitchenette, ignoring the view I saw of myself in the mirror. I didn't need to see the bags under my eyes to know they were there. I walked to the cupboard, pulling out a container and a kettle.

"Who wants hot chocolate?" I asked, trying to grin. I shook a bag of marshmallows. "Marshmallowy goodness!"

They didn't look up. "Iggy makes hot chocolate." Gasman whispered. I sighed and dropped the marshmallows. Good, marshy goodness going to waste. I looked helplessly at Fang, who had seated himself silently at the counter. He gave me a look of sympathy.

"I would love a cup, Max." He said quietly.

"Then you have a death wish." Gazzy put in snidely.

I slammed a mug down on the counter, breaking it into little pieces. Angel glanced up at me, and Fang pressed his fingertips to his temples. Gazzy set his jaw stubbornly as I lost my cool and threw the bottom of the broken mug at the wall, smashing it again. Fang groaned. Nudge covered her hands over her ears.

"Do you know what?" I screamed, fuming to the tips of my hair. I stomped over to Gasman, keeping my fingers clenched in fists. "Make your own freaking hot chocolate! I am done!"

"Thank God." Gasman muttered. I reached down and grabbed the little bugger by the shirt collar, my lips morphing into a snarl. Gazzy kicked out with his legs, but I didn't let go. He grabbed my arm. "Let me down!"

"Shut up!" I screamed. "I am done being your mom, you stupid, ungrateful little..."

Fang grabbed my arm, and I dropped Gasman down onto the chair. He looked up at me with fearful eyes, and I bit my lip, tears beginning to spill.

"I'm sorry, Gazzy." I choked out, turning away. Gasman jumped up and hugged me from behind, his head only reaching the small of my back.

"I didn't mean it, Max." He whispered. I wiped my nose.

"I know." I turned around and hugged him back, kneeling down to his height. "I overreacted. But you're still making your own damn hot cocoa."

He laughed and sniffled, taking a step back and beginning to pick up the broken mug. "Can I have a marshmallow, Max?"

"Go crazy." I threw up an arm. I stood and leaned on the wall, pressing my palm into my forehead. Those kind of bipolar episodes had been occurring pretty regularly the past week, after the fact that Iggy's memories weren't returning slapped me pretty hard in the face and made me a little sensitive. To everything. I shook my head. "God, I'm going crazy. I can't even think of why I acted like that."

"Don't even apologize." Nudge broke in, quiet yet harsh at the same time. "He's bothering all of us. You have a reason to overreact."

"Me?" Gazzy asked, straightening up.

"No, not you." Nudge replied, not looking up from her magazine. "You know who."

It was quiet and awkward. I thought that out of any of us, save maybe me, Nudge had taken this whole Iggy thing the hardest. She really cared about him, we all did, but...it was different for her. She didn't talk as much, and when she did, she sounded as if she was picturing ripping Bob the Wizard (long story about the Bob thing...really, just learn the back story and be done with it) limb from limb in her head. She (the other kids had stopped and just sat stoically now) still cried every night in her new bed. I saw her sneak into Iggy's little bed room/panic room/sanctuary every day to talk with him, even on the days he wouldn't let any of us in. He was still trying to get over the fact that the life he had lived was completely different than what he had believed.

"We've gone far enough." Fang panted. His face was flushed of color. "We have to stop for the night."

We flew down to a clearing in the Wisconsin forests, near the Canadian border. Iggy was the epitome of uncomfortable, my hand planted firmly around his wrist as we flew. He squirmed awkwardly, biting his lip and sweating like his choice of peanut butter or Nutella on his bagel could save or destroy all the beavers in existence. What would we do without animals to make fun of Justin Bieber with?

I let go of his hand as everyone threw down their packs, panting. Iggy grabbed his shoulder with one hand, and Fang sunk to the ground, spreading out like he was going to do a snow angel in the frost.

"Well," I spread my arms out to either side of me. "Now that our little adventure of sweat and terror is over, who wants food?"

"W-wait." Iggy stammered. "I still don't know who any of you are. Why did you take me from the whitecoats? How do you know me? I've never met any of you in my life."

"Are you serious?" Gasman asked, incredulous. "Not any of us?"

"No." Iggy replied harshly. "And I don't know why you took me from those horrible people, but if you want to kill me, I'm going to give you a hell of a fight."

"We want to help you, Iggy." Nudge exclaimed.

"Well, people have been trying to 'help' me all my life." Iggy smirked, and then grimaced. "Look how well that worked out."

"Let us explain." I told him. "We can tell you everything, Ig."

"And how do you know my name?" He shot out.

"Like I've been telling you, wingnut." I stepped toward him. "You're our brother. We know you."

"You're my big brother." Gasman said, going forward to grab his hand. Iggy hit his arm away, kicking a backpack out of his path as he backed up. Rage suddenly filled his face and he swung toward me, lashing out with his fist. I caught it easily in my hand.

"Your name is Iggy. You're blind. You love fire and explosions, you're fourteen years old, you cook like freaking Martha Stewart, you're favorite color is light blue and you the most sarcastic ass in the whole world. You are my freaking brother."

Iggy brought his arm down, hanging his head. "So, 'sis'," He said sarcastically, to prove my point. "What's your name?"

Nudge got up and closed her magazine, slapping it down on the table and walking briskly out of the room without another word. It would have been odd, but after two weeks it had slowly developed into a normality. I sighed and got up, walking into the hallway and kicking off my sneakers, wiggling my toes on the soft carpet. I heard Nudge's shoes tapping on the stairs, and I sighed. She was going in with him again. Not to sound childish, but I was going to go talk with Iggy. I had just collected myself enough to speak with him, and now...

I was deflated like the most neglected balloon at the Macy's Day Parade.

I sunk down to the floor, letting the dim light from the kitchen flow into the hallway and create shadows. I hugged my knees, listening to the silence in the living room, occasionally broken by Gasman choking on a marshmallow. It seemed like Fang's emoness had been rubbing off on me lately.

Speak of the devil, Fang appeared in the doorway to my hallway of pouting, his figure making a very imposing shadow. He frowned down at me, so I gave him my biggest no-teeth smile with my eyes closed. He didn't buy it. Damn. I thought the double winky face always worked...

"Nudge in there?" He asked. I nodded, placing my chin on my knees. I titled my face sideways and looked at Fang. Over the past two weeks he had healed from his little encounter with Iggy 2.0 (He had his ass whooped), now only his stomach was tender from the internal bleeding we were sure he had but never really bothered to check out. We're awesome siblings. Some bruises were still showing around his arms and chest, but other than that he was good as new. Good thing, too. I had been tired of him lazing around. It was my turn.

"So." He broke the ice, placing his hands on his knees. "You going to-"

"Yes, Fang." I hissed, and then turned my head the other way. It was silent for a minute. "But I really don't see why it's me that has to do it."

"Well I'm sure as hell not doing it." Fang scoffed. I punched him without looking. "I'm more awkward than...than if Jeb came and said that we've just been on one big episode of Punk'd for our whole lives."

I looked at him again, now with disbelief and annoyance on my face. "Really, Fang?" I pulled my lip up. "Really?"

Fang frowned, and then nodded. "Really. You'd punch his lights out. I think the whole thing would be pretty damn awkward."

"Touché."

The silence after that was much more awkward than anything bad Fang could come up with to try to make me feel better. Because he sucked at it.

"Are we going to go talk to Iggy, or are we going to let Gazzy go up there and try to show him Double Dream Feet again?"

I shook my head. "We need to keep him off of the Internet."

Fang helped me to my feet and we walked slowly up the stairs. I turned to corner to see Nudge's door slam loudly. I turned to look at Fang, and he shrugged. Half a minute later Adele started blasting from the speakers in her room (I guess it was a tad more tolerable than her Taylor Swift phase), and I ran my fingers through my hair. I walked silently to Iggy's door, taking a minute to collect myself before knocking softly on the wood. I received no response, so I knocked again, Fang practically my shadow behind me. I leaned my forehead against the door, and then opened it, walking inside with a small bout of courage.

"Iggy?" I asked timidly, looking around the room. Iggy stood with his back to me, his palms pressed against the windowsill and his head hanging. His hair had grown a couple inches longer, and it swayed a bit with the wind. His possessions were strewn about the room, but all of his clothes were folded neatly in the bureau in the corner of his room. He had always been neater than Fang or Gasman. I stepped a few feet farther into the room, clenching my jaw. "Iggy, it's-"

"Max." Iggy cut me off without looking back. "I know who you are. But not like that." He spoke quickly, before my hopes could rise.

"Yeah, well," I swallowed. "I, uh, I wanted to talk to you."

"No you don't." Iggy replied with little emotion, as if he could read mine. "Max, this really isn't a good time. Sorry. I'm going to go."

"But, I-"

"See you in a bit." Iggy climbed up and out of the windowsill and onto the roof, unfurling his wings and taking off into the snowy sky. I bit my tongue and closed my eyes, standing blankly in the middle of Iggy's room. A tear slid down my cheek, and Fang came up behind me, taking my limp hand.

"He'll be back." He said confidently, though his voice wavered.

I nodded. "I know."

Iggy left to fly on his own a lot. He just left, usually through the window and always with little words. He never took anything with him. It scared me to hell every time he did it. But the thing was, that no matter how much he made us cry, no matter how little the new Iggy knew about us, he always came back.

I even passed 3,000 words this time, aren't you proud of me? Thoughts! Show that review button some love.