Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

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Fang POV

Max's gaze zeroed in on me like lightning. I couldn't read any expression on her face, it was carefully blank, and that pained me. We'd always had a deep level of communicating without words before. That looked like it was lost now. Really, a bitter part of me remarked, did you honestly expect anything else?

We stood there in silence, separated by more then the empty space between us. I was at a loss of what to say. I wanted to apologize, but how? I wanted to explain, but I couldn't. I wanted to tell her I loved her, but it was just plain wrong after all this time and what I'd put her through. I wanted to ask if she was okay, but the answer stood in front of me. No, she wasn't. She was tired, stressed, worn out. I wanted to ask if Dylan had taken my place, but that wouldn't be the right thing to do – ever. It wasn't my place anymore. I wanted – I wanted to sit down and ask it she still liked poached eggs for breakfast the most, or if her favourite time of day was still dusk. I just wanted to still know her, somehow knowing myself that it was impossible. People change in twenty years. We were all proof of that.

"Max," I pleaded. I felt like crying under the blank, emotionless stare she was giving me. I had never felt so dead in my life – even the last twenty years of nothingness didn't compare to this. I was wilting away. "Please, do something. Say something." She just looked at me blankly, as if nothing I said registered or affected her at all.

I stepped forwards on my ledge, and she stepped backwards on hers. The only move she'd made since I'd become visible was away from me. I winced, and something flashed through her eyes and disappeared behind her mask too fast for me to recognise.

"Just – just be mad or something," I pleaded softly. "Yell and scream, or bash me up, or anything. Please, just not this." I stepped forwards again, and she stepped back, shaking her head. I refrained from wincing, even though it hurt more then the first time, if that was even possible.

"No," she whispered, still shaking her head slowly.

"Max?" I didn't understand. No what? Confusion must have shown on my face, because she just shook her head in answer, muttering a weak, "No, Fang." It was the first time she'd said my name, but it sounded dead on her lips, and she winced marginally when she said it.

Minutes passed in agonizing silence. At loss of what to say, I asked, "Do you still like poached eggs?" I felt ridiculous and stupid, and regretted saying anything like it as soon as the words left my mouth. Damn it. Now I sound like I don't care, asking trivial things like that in a moment so serious and thick was tension it felt like I could swim through it.

Something flashed through Max's eyes, and she shook her head slowly to herself. My heart sunk. Ever since forever, it'd been her favourite, and if that changed anything could change . . . She stopped shaking her head and frowned – the first expression on her face. "Yes, I do," she said, still frowning at me.

Hope blossomed inside of me. She still liked poached eggs.

"Okay," I mumbled, nodding. Her face smoothed back into its neutral nothing expression, and the hope that just blossomed inside of me withered and died.

Minutes that held an eternity passed in silence. "Max," I said, looking her squarely in the eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, you don't have any idea how –" I stopped, the words caught in my throat. I hoped that somehow our silent communication had survived, and she could see the apology, sadness, and pain in my expression. I needed her to see it.

"You broke my heart," she said flatly.

I closed my eyes. I couldn't deny it. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You left when we needed you," she said, no emotion in her voice. "You left when I needed you."

The way she said it was as a statement, but it hit me like an accusation. I felt like staggering. "Max, I –"

"Why?" she asked, still staring at me with nothing. "Why did you have to do it?"

"I did it so the Flock, and you, weren't in danger," I explained, eyes searching her face. "That's why I left. You have to understand –"

"Don't tell me what I have to do," she cut me off blankly, still speaking in her monotone. She was starting to scare me. She wasn't acting like the Max I knew. Had I broken her this much? Beyond repair? The thought was horrible. "I wasn't asking about that. Why did you have to do it? Love me, and then chuck me away? Why?"

Horror washed through me. "Max, please, you have to listen –"

"I don't have to do anything, not for you." Not anymore. The words hung in the air, and we both heard them. Their truth hit me like a ton of bricks.

I winced but continued anyway, "– I love you. I didn't chuck you away." I hoped she could hear how appalled I was at the idea. "I couldn't put you and the Flock in unnecessary danger, so I left. I never stopped loving you, Max. You have to know that." I wasn't thinking straight. What the hell was I meant to say? What could I say to make something like this better? "I didn't abandon you, either. I helped. I took out Erasers before they could get to you."

"So I wasn't imagining that?" she asked, a weird expression on her face. It may have been strange, and I may not have been able to read it, but I seized it desperately anyway. I'd take anything other then the hollow blankness. "No, Max," I said, shaking my head, trying to get her to see. "I was there, and I was so, so, so close to going to you, but Dylan came and you flew away, and I couldn't put you in the danger . . ." my voice trailed off and she didn't say anything. "But I wanted to, Max. So badly. You have no idea. I love you so much."

"Loved," she corrected.

"No, Max. Love." Present tense. Please realise that.

"You know," she mused, ignoring what I'd said, "I loved you too."

Loved. Past tense. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me, my soul ripped from me.

"I still did, for a while," she continued, oblivious to the despair rushing through me. My mind just kept repeating Loved, not love, loved, not love, loved, not love, over and over in my head. "I loved you for years after you left." Her gaze met mine again, and something flashed across her face as she registered the utter pain there, but it passed quickly. "But then I realised that if you had really loved me as much as you always said you did, you wouldn't have gone. Not if you loved me," she repeated the lie to herself, glancing away from me.

"Max, I had to go, because I loved you that much. I had to protect you. Please, you have to realise that."

She shook her head. In denial? Rejection? Disbelief? I didn't know, and it pained me. The connection was lost. I never realised how much I took it for granted until it was gone. Something, though, looking into her eyes, lit something in me. If I didn't do it now, make it right now, convince her now, I never would – or could. Even if she had moved on, I had to let her know now. That I was here. She had to make the decision now, here, based on us in this moment not us then and what she thinks happened and why it did. With this new revelation, I spread my wings and lurched myself into the air towards her ledge. Surprise broke her mask of indifference, and she jumped back as I landed silently in front of her.

"Maximum," I said, walking towards her. She backed away until she was on the edge of the cliff, but I knew that wasn't a boundary, that it wouldn't stop her. She could always fly away, too fast for me to follow. "I love you. I always have. I always will. I left – because I love you. Only because of that. I fought them before they got to you – because I love you." I swallowed, and suddenly felt very, very tired. I'd never been an emotional person, and all this sharing of my feelings was so . . . strange after twenty years of feeling next to nothing. Even before I hadn't been this open with her, and it was one of the things I regretted the most.

"Fang," she said, sounding strangled. "Don't do this. Please." Her indifferent blank mask was gone, and she looked . . . unsure. That uncertainty fuelled a little hope within me, but it also hurt. That look, combined with her aged, worn demure made her seem so . . . fragile, almost. Something that Max should never ever look like. It was just – wrong. I really had broken her. She looked like she had no life, no will, left in her.

"Max, you know I love you." I said it like a statement, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. "You know I do. I can tell." And I could, somehow. Maybe our connection hadn't been severed beyond recognition.

"But – it doesn't change anything, Fang," she said. She hadn't denied it. I was right. She did know. "You broke me, I haven't heard from you in twenty years. You just can't – come back. It . . . I can't."

I knew that. I expected that. I swallowed. "I know, but Max –" I cut myself off. It doesn't change anything . . . because her and Dylan are what we used to be? That would make sense, even though it pained me to even think it. Quietly, I asked, "Max, are you and Dylan together?"

She shook her head, and I felt disbelief and hope rush through me. "I tried, I really did, but I couldn't. I just couldn't forget you, and even though it was so right to be with him –" I winced "– it was so wrong, too. Being with someone so – compatible with me, it just wasn't natural." Not like being with me was natural. I shook my head. I was getting ahead of myself.

"Will – will you let me back in?" I asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer. Seeing her expression, I added, "Back into the Flock, I mean," hastily. I was willing to take whatever I got. Already, the life I'd been missing – that I had left with Max – was returning to me. The thought of going back to the nothingness I'd lived in for the last twenty years was so bleak and horrible I would do anything to stop it from happening. Even going back to the Flock where they wouldn't trust me, even living with stupid Mr. Perfect, even being just friends with Max, the love of my life.

"You broke them too, you know. They were never the same after you left," Max said matter–of–factly, giving me a hard look.

"I'm sorry," I said weakly but sincerely. I hoped she heard the truth in the words.

It was silent. Max searched my face for something, and I hoped whatever she found swayed her to say yes. I kept my expression open and truthful, wanting nothing unreal or any misinterpretations to stand in the way of her making her decision.

I waited silently, my heart in her hands.

"Fang," Max finally said. "I can't trust you."

That hit home hard. We were hybrids that have been on the run our whole lives, living in constant fear and suspicion. We didn't trust anyone. But we had always, always, always trusted each other. And for me to have lost the trust of one of the Flock, especially Max of all people, was so overwhelmingly wrong it took me a moment to process it because it had always seemed impossible.

"I –" I stopped and cleared my throat, feeling embarrassed about it. "I guess I can understand that," I replied. I'd never wanted to be invisible more in my life, but I fought the urge to just disappear. I was not a coward. I could face this – the crushing of everything I knew, loved, and hoped for no matter how hard it was.

"Don't leave," Max snapped angrily, and I nearly smiled. There was the Max I knew and loved, demanding and stubborn. "Not again."

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

"You were fading. Not going anywhere counts as not disappearing into invisibility." Never in my life had I been happier to see her scowling at me, the nothingness mask gone. But what was she talking about? Focusing my efforts on my power, I found myself stuck between visibility and not. Frowning, I tried to return to fully visible. I couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "But I can't help it. It's a struggle to be visible anymore." Just like when I had first discovered my power and I could hardly make myself not be seen, now, after all those years of being invisible, it was a struggle to be seen. It had flipped around, reversed itself. I gave her a small, sad grin. "I haven't been visible in twenty years, you know."

Max's eyes widened. "What? Why?"

I shrugged. I didn't want to go into the reasons. How on earth was I going to explain to her that I became invisible when I wasn't with her because it felt like I wasn't there inside anymore? That because my soul disappeared, I made my body disappear, too?

"Max?" I asked, bringing her attention back the present and out of her thoughtful look. "Are you . . . well?" I'd been dying to ask her that since she got here. Well, before that actually. As soon as I saw her fighting those Erasers, meters from me, all those years ago. The first time I saw her – not unfit, not unhealthy, but something akin to it.

"Things haven't been tough at all, ya know, with saving the world and all that," she ranted sarcastically, rolling her eyes. I watched her in amazement. With every second that passed, I got another piece more of my old Max back. But that wasn't the answer I wanted. I gave her a look, and she sighed. "I'm fine, Fang."

"That's good. I was worried."

She threw me a withering look. "That's really annoying, you know."

"What is?"

"That I don't hear from you in twenty years, you don't care for twenty years –" I opened my mouth to object, to remind her of my pre-attacks on those who would attack the Flock, but she just shook her head at me warningly. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," she said, and I shut my mouth. Continuing, she said, "And then suddenly you show up, all concerned."

"I never stopped caring about you."

"I know. Me too," she mumbled, and bit her lip and looked away.

I had broken her, I knew that, and as I saw her pained expression, I vowed to myself that I'd fix her again. If she'd ever let me. And she cared for me, too, she just admitted. She may not love me anymore, or trust me – at least that's what she said – but some things couldn't change. She still cared. "Max." I stepped towards her, and she didn't step back. She couldn't. She was right up against the ledge. Max didn't turn towards me, just kept looking down at the dusty valley below us. "Max." I stepped closer still, and lowered my head so I could see eye to eye with her. She refused to look at me, and I gently turned her head towards me, surprised she didn't put a fight. I was shocked to find she had tears in her eyes. "Max?" Her name was a question this time. She blinked at me. "Don't cry," I muttered.

Consequences and facts didn't influence instincts, I soon found out, because as soon as I saw her tears I leant forward and hugged her, acting on the instinct to take her pain away. Immediately, I knew I'd done the wrong thing. Max stiffened. I stiffened. I knew I shouldn't have ever done something like this, not now, not after the last two decades. But I was frozen. For twenty years I'd wanted her in my arms again, and to be finally holding her again felt like heaven. But this wasn't want Max wanted, and it wasn't a friendly hug. I moved to pull back, but Max just shook her head against me, wrapped her arms around me, and I was frozen again. And very, very confused. She says she doesn't love me, she doesn't trust me, then she says she cares for me still and returns my hug. I wasn't the only one who'd been lost and confused, I realised. Max was, too. She probably has been for as long as I have been: twenty years.

I wrapped my arms around her stronger, crushing her too me, and rested my head on top of hers. I was at least a head taller then her. I smiled briefly when I realised her hair still smelt the same. Max was holding me so tightly that it was sort of painful, but no way would I move or say something now that I was finally here again in her arms. I was sure I was holding her just as desperately, too.

"I'm sorry, Max," I murmured into her hair. My voice sounded weird and husky, and the back of my throat burned. "Please, you have to believe me. It's killing me."

Max nodded. "I know." She didn't say it's okay, or I forgive you, but it was enough. I didn't expect her to ever say it was okay to just up and leave for twenty years, or to forgive me for it. It wouldn't be right – it would be Max.

Eventually, she pulled back, looking embarrassed. Her face had dried tears all over it. I would've reached up to wipe them away, but I didn't feel like I could. Not anymore. A hug didn't change everything, not like leaving for a few decades did. She gave me a small smile, nothing more then a lip twitch. I returned it, and couldn't resist reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. She held shock still, and I knew I wouldn't, couldn't, push the boundaries anymore.

Something was off, though. Something was bugging me. Something didn't make sense.

Meeting Max's eyes, I asked, softly, "Do you really, truly not trust me?" There was an underlying current in the words, one I knew she'd feel and hear.

She didn't glance away; she didn't even blink. She just looked at me. Time passed, but I felt disconnected from it. Like it didn't matter anymore. Finally, she said, just as softly, "I really, really, really don't want to trust you. I want to hurt you like you hurt me. I want to hate you. Some part of me does. But – but I do trust you, even after all this. And I can't hate you. Not for too long, anyway. And I can't stand hurting you, either. It just hurts me." She gave me a funny a look. "It just doesn't make sense, huh?"

"Nothing ever makes sense with us," I agreed.

She gave me a small Max-filled grin, but then turned serious again. "And, I really, really, really don't want to love you." I stopped breathing, waiting. "But I can't stop. I can't help it." I didn't move for a moment, just looking at her – really looking at her. Seeing how her eyes were a little bit brighter then at the beginning of today, how a little bit more colour had returned to her cheeks. The healing process had begun for both of us, I realised. Just like she'd seemed to give me my life back by just being with me, I did the same for her.

"But," she continued, "I can't just go back. I can't just let you in again, and return to how things were before."

I took of hold of her hand, running the back of her hand with my thumb. Physical contact seemed to make this all so much more real, somehow. "I know, Max. I didn't even really expect you to, well, even stand me anymore. Not that I'm objecting." I gave her a full-out smile, one I hadn't used in twenty years, and hardly even used back before all this. "I thought Dylan would've . . ." We both made faces at the idea, and then shared a smile. God, I'd missed her. So much. "But will you let me go back to the Flock with you?"

She gave my hands a squeeze. "Things aren't going to be easy. It's going to be bad at first. They'll probably shun you, or try to sabotage you, or something. But, yeah. You're still Flock."

Gathering my courage, I asked, "Will – will we try?" I hoped our communication skills with each other were still there. I didn't really want to explain this, it might get awkward, and it'd be so much easier if she just knew what I was talking about. Understanding flashed across her face, and I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. Then something else crossed her expression, and I quickly added, "I don't expect things to just magically get better, Max. But will we try? Try to make it good again?" I didn't care how long it took, or what I had to do, but I wanted Max better. I wanted us again, even it took me the rest of my life to regain all her trust, and experience all her love again.

She hesitated before nodding. "Yeah."

I sighed, and gave her a happy, grateful smile. "There's so much that I need to catch up on. Like what happened with Iggy and Angel." Max's face fell, and then settled into a scary hardness that I'd only seen her use with scientists or things out to get us before – never Flock, or ex-Flock or whatever. "Is it that bad?" I asked her carefully, not wanting to set her anger off.

"Pretty much. Angel's . . . corrupted. Iggy I don't think as much." She peered up at me sadly. "He went to get his eyes back, Fang. How could I stop him from that?" I gave her hand an understanding squeeze. "I think he might've planned to come back once his eyes were fixed, from what Gazzy's hinted at, but he never did. We haven't heard from them in a year. They might be dead, or worse."

I ran my hand down her cheek. "Hey, don't get upset. It'll be okay."

"I still haven't saved the world, Fang. I'm sorry," Max continued. "The Voice keeps telling me to do it already, but I don't know how, or when, or what from. There are so many different things, and I can't do it all . . . I think that's what the point of this whole leading our whole Flocks thing might be about. Each of us have our own little mission to do in saving the world, and combined we'd save it. I don't know. I know as much now as I did then."

I considered it for a moment. In all those years of thinking over things like this, trying to put pieces together, create the Bigger Picture Max's Voice was always going on about, and this had never occurred to me. And it made sense. "That'd be logical," I told her, nodding. "But I don't know if I like it."

"I know what you mean," she replied, and understanding and connectedness flowed between us.

"Well," I said, "I still haven't lived up to whats been foretold of me, either. Twenty years ago I was going to die soon. I still haven't – although I've come close a couple of times."

Max's face froze, and she asked, "What do you mean?"

I grimaced. "Well, I got into a couple of bad situations with some Erasers. Nothing too bad, obviously." I was still here, after all.

She gave me a disapproving look, and opened her mouth to speak, but I stopped her by laying a finger over her lips. She froze. "Please, not now. I don't want to have that conversation."

She sighed then nodded. "I guess we're even, anyway. I nearly died a couple of times, too." Taking in her expression and stance, I knew she was downplaying it. I narrowed my eyes at her. "No, no, no," she said, smiling evilly. "We're not having that conversation now, remember?"

I glowered at her before pulling her in for a quick hug – I couldn't resist. I had twenty years on no contact with her to make up for. "God, I've missed you," I told her truthfully. But I knew I had to be careful. We were standing on a knives edge with each other. Just as easily as we seemed to reconnect now, I knew it could just as easily go the other way. We were going to have so many tough fights in the future that neither of us really wanted, I could tell, but they were necessary for us to get through this and heal properly. We had so many long, difficult conversations to get through.

"I know. Me too," she agreed, and it took me a moment to come out of my thoughts and back to the present.

I released her, and she shook out her wings. "We better get going back. The others will be worried, and Dylan will be having a fit by now." I glowered at the mention of Mr. Damn Perfect, but kept my mouth shut. Max and I were still on shaky legs when it came to being back together, or even friends, again. We had to learn to walk again before we could run. Like she said, it was going to be freaking tough.

"Let me grab my stuff," I said, and flew back over to the cave where I'd been staying. My stuff was already packed, and I threw Max some of the food I'd gotten to put in her pack. As I glided back down to her, I caught her staring at me.

"What?" I asked, slinging the laptop bag over my shoulder.

She shook her head. "You're so different, but you're still the same. You're so . . . I don't know. Beautiful? I don't know if that's the right word." She walked towards me, and then reached over my shoulder to trace the top arc of my wing. It rustled a bit under touch, and she grinned. "I always loved your wings, you know," she mused out loud.

"Hmph," I said, distracted by the feel of her hands as they slipped under the tougher outer feathers to stroke the softer downy ones underneath.

She turned, gave me one last challenging look over her shoulder, and jumped off the cliff. Her wings snapped out, just as beautiful as I remembered them being, and up she rose into the sky. Hawks all around us squawked at the sudden bird woman in their space, but soon settled down again.

Things weren't perfect, not by any means, we had a long bumpy road ahead of us and things with the remains of the Flock were going to be bad, but I was feeling more happy, more whole, more complete then I had in twenty years as I lurched myself off the cliff and into the air after Max.

~*~

Note: I didn't move to fast, did I? God, I think I did. Damn, I've stuffed it. I liked the first chapter better, what do you recon? Ah, I'm freaking. Deep breaths. Okay. Better now. Please review and leave me a word on wether you agree that I just flushed this whole story down the dunny. Some of you said in response to the first part of this two-shot that you'd like to see things get settled, but not a huge make-up. I tried to avoid that, settling somewhere in the middle. At heart, I'm a Faxness girl through and through though. I just couldn't . . . abandon the love, if ya get me. I tried to keep this is in character as possible, and I hope I succeeded. Review and tell me? (:

Thanks to all who read this, I hope you enjoyed it, and don't forget to review!

Over and Out,

Dozey212