So, this is it. The end.

The angst is back with a vengeance, but it's not alone. Heart-felt talks have joined it.

Anyone who is confused by the quotes and the morals this story portrays, simply PM me. I'd be more than happy to explain. I think they're pretty apparent, though.

As to what I'm going to write after this…I've put a poll up. You can vote if you like.

Disclaimer: In reverence and respect of Mr. Patterson's creative genius, I won't even pretend that I own Maximum Ride.

One last thing: Max POV. Surprise. ;)

In Reverence

Chapter Seven

"…and the world's misfortune we take, kneeling here, bowed beneath the weight of all that has come upon us, in reverence, in the end, of the power of family and the ties that bind us to one another, and make us rise and fall, in the end, as one…"

-Anonymous

I don't think I've ever told anyone this, but Iggy's a totally different person when he's asleep.

No, I mean it. It's the eyes, I think. Never mind the fact that he's blind — if he's thinking hard about something, you'll see it in his eyes. It's like all of his emotions are broadcasted there for everyone to see. Like a reality show: Iggy's Life, every waking minute of every day. You can completely tell what he's going through if you just look at his eyes. I don't think he realizes he's doing it, either. He's usually in control of what he shows on his face, and I guess he's so focused on masking what he feels that he doesn't realize all those pent-up emotions are leaking out of his eyes like they're part of some great big gushing waterfall of moods.

So really, you can read Iggy like a book if you know where to look for it.

Except when he's asleep. When his eyes are closed and you can't see what's going on in that bomb-obsessed, fire-loving, chef-genius, joke-cracking, sexist-pig head of his, he might as well be a different person. It's like years of worry and struggle fall off of him the second his eyelids fall shut.

If I wasn't positive it happened to every one of us when we fell asleep, too, I'd feel sorry for the guy.

But I know he would hate that. Iggy is to pity as cat is to water. It's not something born of experience, though that definitely strengthened it. Iggy's just not a pity person.

So don't tell him I said that. Really, don't.

I don't know what it would take to make him snap right now.

The flock went quiet the instant they spotted Iggy, leaning back against the couch with his long arms resting in his lap and his head tilted back. He looked exhausted. I could see the dark rings beneath his closed eyes even in the dimmed light, and his skin was so pale it almost looked transparent.

And then, of course, there were the wings…

I tried not to look at them head on, but it was like some kind of sick, unstoppable pull kept drawing my gaze back to them. Iggy had swept them up and over his head so they wouldn't be squished against the couch cushions, and they stretched above his frail frame like the spindly branches of a torched tree. So many of the warm-colored feathers were gone, ripped away by cruel claws, that Iggy's wings looked like mere skeletons compared to what they had been.

The Erasers had cut past the primary feathers, and I knew they'd hit the tendons because, otherwise, there shouldn't have been so much blood, but I didn't know how bad it was. Would they grow back? If they did, would they be…deformed?

I heard Gazzy make a strained sound by my side. The poor kid looked splotchy and there was a distressed stare on his face as he took in the sight of Iggy's wings that I instantly recognized.

"Gasman?" My voice didn't sound half as encouraging or comforting as I wanted it to. "Do you think you need to…?"

His dirty hands curled around the cup of hot chocolate Ella had made for Iggy, and he swallowed thickly. It was several seconds before he could talk. "No," he said hoarsely. "No, I'm…I'm alright."

Nudge sniffed and tiptoed over to Iggy's side. She put a hand on his forehead and shook her head when he slumbered on. "He's out," she said, and buried her face in the couch's armrest.

We moved in a group to join her, trying to muffle our footsteps. The cheerful attitude that had taken over while Iggy was awake now diffused from the air like cheap perfume. Now that Iggy was finally getting some much-needed rest, the gravity of the situation settled on our shoulders with enough weight to topple us over. We folded down around Iggy, perching on the cushions beside him, or sitting against the couch.

Angel sat next to him and brushed her cheek against his arm, sighing sadly.

"What happened to him?"

I'd almost forgotten about Ella. She was standing there with a steaming mug in her hands and a pained expression in her dark eyes. The heartrending look she was giving Iggy was enough to make sumo-wrestlers cry.

I pushed the air out between my teeth and met Fang's eye. "We…we weren't there for him," I said quietly. "We got separated."

"Was it…the Erasers?"

Gazzy nodded and set the hot chocolate on the floor. He drew his knees up to his chest and stared at the cup as if it was the cause of all his troubles.

Ella bit her lip and lowered her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said. "When you came and got my mom, I didn't think it could be this bad…"

"It's bad, alright," Fang muttered. "We don't even know if they'll grow back —"

Nudge's head snapped up, her eyes quickly filling with tears. "Don't say that! Fang, take it back —!"

"Shh!" Angel gave Iggy an anxious glance as he stirred. "You almost woke him up."

"Whether or not they fully grow back…" I paused to cough and clear my throat; I had something painful caught in it. Nudge whimpered. "We'll never abandon him like that again."

"But you didn't mean to," Ella said.

"No," Gazzy murmured to his feet, "but it still happened."

Angel leaned forward on the couch and pressed her forehead against Iggy's. She closed her big eyes. "We're sorry, Iggy."

We did not sleep.

Whether it was nerves, grief, or just the fact that we'd reached the point of exhaustion that makes you feel like you're not even tired anymore, we just couldn't settle down and close our eyes. We stayed where we were, listening to Iggy's steady, sleep-time breaths, occasionally reaching out a hand to make sure he was still there.

The food Ella had helped us prepare remained, for the most part, untouched. Gazzy kept picking the hot chocolate up and putting it down in the first half hour, looking like he thought he should take it while he had it, but eventually it went cold and he didn't touch it again.

Around midnight, a visitor came to the door. The handle rattled noisily and the door jerked on its hinges as someone pulled on it from the outside. I was on my feet in an instant with the rest of the flock, adrenaline pulsing through my tired body. Iggy didn't even stir.

I looked at Fang, who gave me a grim stare. We were both thinking it: the Erasers had seen us after all, even after we tried so hard to remain undetected.

Then I heard it — the sound of a key sliding into the lock. I gave Fang a baffled look. If it had been Erasers, they would have broken in by now…

The door swung open, and the sight of the person who stepped through was enough to make me nearly keel over with relief.

"Mom!" Ella cried.

Dr. Martinez looked up through several wayward tendrils of dark wavy hair and gave us a tired, startled smile.

"Ella," she said, lifting her arms to receive her daughter's excited hug. She examined us with awe. "Max, Fang…you guys made it here without getting caught?"

"If the Erasers had seen us, we'd be gone by now," Fang said darkly.

"We just need a place to rest," I explained. "We'll be out of here as soon as possible…"

Dr. Martinez pursed her lips and shook her head, disentangling herself from Ella. "No. You stay as long as you need to, Max."

What I wouldn't give for a mom like her.

"What took you so long, Mom?" Ella asked worriedly.

Her mom didn't reply right away. She moved towards Iggy with a caution that made me nervous. Raising her hands to his wings, she knelt by his side and proceeded to examine him. I fought hard not to look away.

"Those…Erasers left as soon as you got in the elevator," she said in a near-whisper. "They looked like they were about to attack us, but they didn't."

"Catch and kill the bird-kids," I muttered. "Their number one priority."

Gazzy breathed something under his breath that I didn't quite catch, but I got the gist of it. I decided it was better not to say anything.

"I was counted as a witness," Dr. Martinez continued, "so the authorities held me after until they were satisfied. Even now they're saying that they'll call me back tomorrow."

"What did you tell them?"

Dr. Martinez met my eye and sat back on her heels. "What I saw. A patient and his family were attacked by wolf-mutants, and they then ran into the elevator, and that's all I know. I'm just a civilian."

"And they believed you?" Fang asked skeptically.

"Well, no, not at first. But then the doctors with me testified, and they're going to check the security cameras, so…"

"As long as you're safe," Ella said, giving her mother a wide smile.

"And what," Gazzy asked softly, "about Iggy?"

The smile that had appeared on Dr. Martinez's face vanished. "Oh. Iggy. I…"

I forced her to catch my eye, staring at her with a ferocity that surprised even me. "He's not going to recover, is he?"

My flock acted like they'd just been run through with a cold wind. Angel flinched at the same time that Nudge gasped in horror, and Fang turned his head to look away from Iggy's sleeping form. Gazzy merely shivered. I think he was too run through with misery to really conjure up a big reaction.

Dr. Martinez sucked in a big breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know," she said. "I honestly don't know, Max. I'm sorry. With any other bird, I would say his chances of flying as well as he once did are slim, but his tendons weren't completely cut through, and your flock is special. You're not like ordinary birds. You heal unlike any other human or animal I've ever seen."

I bit down on the inside of my lip and folded my arms stiffly across my chest. Something trembled in my stomach. "So you don't know."

Dr. Martinez started to get up. "Max, I didn't —"

"Excuse me," I said, and bolted for the door.

It was cold outside. The air seemed to suck all the life from my body, making me feel vulnerable and weak and helpless. I paced a couple steps, staring searchingly into the black night, really not knowing what I was looking for. My chest heaved with panicky gasps. At my sides, my hands shook.

Iggy. My brother. Six months younger than me and already a better cook than I was, a better navigator, a better friend. He was always laughing, always cracking jokes, even in the worst situations. Other than depending on us because of his sight, it seemed like he didn't need us at all. Nothing could touch him. And then something like this had to happen, and all I could see was how broken, how young and fragile he looked lying unconscious in the Martinez's living room.

I gasped something unintelligible and covered my mouth with a hand, shuddering and shaking as hard as a leaf in a storm.

Come on, Max, I thought sternly. Get it together. Pull yourself together.

I couldn't. I was used to being injured. Physical pain I could deal with, easy. Mental and emotional pain, though, really aren't my strong points.

And this had hit me hardest in my weakest spot.

I heard the door click open but kept my back turned. The idea of moving, of making any kind of action, made my stomach churn.

"Max." Dr. Martinez's voice was soft and careful. I felt her hand descend gently on my shoulder. I didn't move.

"It's alright, Max," she said soothingly. "It's okay."

I shook my head furiously, not trusting myself to speak.

"I'm sorry I upset you. I really do think Iggy has a strong chance of recovering, it's just, I didn't want to tell you something if I wasn't sure it was the truth…"

My hand fell away from my mouth, and I blinked rapidly, willing the sting to go from my eyes. "I know," I said. "He's always been strong enough to resist what would have broken any of us. I mean, he's freaking blind! How do you live with the fact that once you could see things, and now you'll never see anything again? But this is…this is…"

"Different," Dr. Martinez supplied.

All the pent-up energy swirling inside me went out in a big whoosh of exhaustion. "Yeah," I said, letting my shoulders fall, "this is different."

Dr. Martinez didn't say anything. For a couple minutes, all I could hear was the rush of cars in the distance and the chirping of a cricket somewhere in the night. The next words that were spoken were quiet.

"No matter how old or wise I become, I don't think I will ever fully understand the fragility of human life."

I turned my head to stare at Ella's mother. She wasn't looking at me; her gaze was aimed somewhere far away, her attention likewise.

"What do you mean?" I asked tentatively.

"It's scary, sometimes," she said, wrapping her lower arms around each other, "how fragile human life is. Most of us go through life without really understanding that we're not immortal. We don't think about what would happen if we were crippled or if we got in an accident and were never the same again. And then, when it does happen…"

I felt my face turn grim. "It's unexpected."

"Yes." Dr. Martinez nodded, and finally turned to lock gazes with me. "Max, I'm telling you this because I want you to understand how dangerous Iggy's situation is. Some people, when they're crippled, grow stronger. And some don't. Some never recover, not only in body, but in mind and soul. Iggy is strong. But I don't think he can make it on his own."

Her hand reached out and grasped mine. She creased her eyes meaningfully and squeezed. "Do you understand, Max? What I'm trying to tell you?"

I did, and it made me hurt in a way that I'd rarely ever ached before. Not even Jeb's disappearance and betrayal had hurt me as badly as Iggy's injuries.

"Yeah," I said. I let out a sound that even I couldn't convince myself was a laugh and stared at the pavement beneath my feet. "You know, we've always called ourselves a 'flock.' It seemed to fit at the time, because we're part birds, and birds form flocks. But I guess we can't just be a flock anymore. We have to be more than that. We're friends, definitely, but I've never really called us family before. I guess I thought that's just what everyone believed we were."

Dr. Martinez nodded and released my hand. "Sometimes it's better to say it out loud. Then you start to actually believe it, and then you start to act like it. In a family, you don't let each other suffer without help. You're one body of people, not six. And if one of you is hurt, the others are too."

"Jeez. I feel like such a bad friend."

She smiled at me again. "Not a friend."

"Oh, right." I grinned awkwardly back at her. "A sister."

Dr. Martinez reached out and hugged me briefly, and then we headed back inside, away from the cold. I met my family's questioning, worried glances without a word and went immediately to Iggy's side.

He was still as asleep now as he was a minute ago, and just as bruised-looking. I didn't look at his wings, not out of pain, though that was definitely still there, but because I didn't need to. I knew what was there and I knew it was going to pose more trouble later on. Dr. Martinez hadn't fully answered the question: would Iggy get his wings back? Probably. Probably not. No one knew for certain.

But for now, we were a family, not a bunch of flying kids on the run, and there was time to heal.

When you wake up, Iggy, and you're in pain and confused, we'll be there for you. With or without the wings.

I turned my head to smile at my family, and just that simple gesture was enough to calm them down. They bunched in closer around Iggy's prone, sleeping form, sensing that I had something to say.

There was nothing verbal I could say. For now, all I could do was offer a brief reprieve from their suffering.

So with Dr. Martinez's words in mind, I reached my hand out over Iggy and made a fist.

It's funny how habits like our fist-touching never really fade from mind. My family knew exactly what I was doing the minute I did it, and a second later four more fists were propped up on mine.

I flashed Dr. Martinez a glance and saw her standing with her hands on Ella's shoulders, smiling approvingly at me.

My attention shifted back to my family. We met gazes, looked at Iggy as if to say, this is for you, and broke without a word.

I don't know why it stood out to me, but at that moment I heard in the house a clock, ticking away through the night.

"A wound gives strange dignity to him who bears it. Well men shy from this new and terrible majesty. It is as if the wounded man's hand is upon the curtain which hangs before the revelations of all existence — the meaning of ants, potentates, wars, cities, sunshine, snow, a feather dropped from a bird's wing…"

-Stephen Crane

.Fin.

A/N: This is the last chapter, and reviews would be very nice. Just something to remember this by.

I'm sorry to those of you who wanted Iggy to get his wings back. That's not my focus in this story. I view his wings like his sight; he either can or can't recover from it. Of course, adoring him as I do, I would love for him to fly again, but this story isn't about his recovery - it's about the friendship and bonds that will allow him to take the first step towards that mental and emotional recovery.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope to see you all again with the next story I write.

-Kimsa