This chapter seems really rushed to me, but when I tried to write it another way that one came out even worse. So, I think this is the best I can do on this one. I hope it sounds better in your brain than it does in mine.

(MAX POV)

My eyes fluttered open lazily, and I stared blankly at an unfamiliar white ceiling. There was a dull aching in my muscles, and I winced as it became progressively stronger.

My head turned to the sides and took in the scene around me. The room seemed dull, despite the bright fluorescent lights. It was blank, white walls and linoleum floors, and nothing on the walls. There was no furniture, just a simple, metal bed pressed up against the wall, it's shiny surface reflecting the lights. The room itself is small, maybe nine feet by ten feet, enough to walk around in, but the blank walls seem to blend together, making it seem claustrophobic.

I took short breath and stopped mid-way, not only because of the aching my body was going through, but the horrible smell. The air reeked strongly of antiseptic and sterilizers, making my nose scrunch up in constant disgust. I've never really had an issue myself with doctors, but my mom had once gone through a case of doctors who experimented on children. They would cut them open and give them alternate DNA, then force them to fight and survive against vicious dogs. Now, any time I even think about a hospital, I want to shudder and puke. Especially now in god-knows-wherever.

Yesterday-or whenever that was- clicked in my brain, and suddenly I was hastily scrambling out of the bed, but only managing to trip over the tangled sheets and fall to the floor.

The air was knocked out of me and I took a sharp intake of breath, my lungs burning painfully. What? Why am I so weak?

Images rushed liked a movie through my brain; talking to Nickolas Walker, running, being attacked, shoved into that van, and Fang, standing there helplessly.

I sat there, gasping and regained my breath. The dull ache of my muscles had left, replaced by searing pain everywhere. It felt as if someone was pouring liquid silver down my throat.

I stood on un-steady legs and backed into the wall, my mind reeling. My thoughts were all jumbled together, a constant delirium of nonsense. Going around and around, like a ball of yarn and a cat. I couldn't understand most of it, and whatever could help me refused to push through the tangle.

I was panicked now, my eyes flicking around the barren room. Smell…Walker…bed…white…Fang…

Fang! Where's Fang? Fang…He wouldn't come. No, Fang can't come. He doesn't have the experience, doesn't know what to do in order to help me out. Heck, I don't even want Fang to come. Just the thought of someone I love so much being near that…that douche makes me shudder, thinking of the people who now lay on slabs, dead.

I pushed the thought away, not wanting to picture Fang dead.

Suddenly, another searing pain erupted in my chest and I was gasping, reaching for breath that never came. I coughed and coughed, and soon it was only wheezing, while clutching my stomach in pain. Tears started forming and soon, I couldn't take it any more. I started sobbing.

Minutes, maybe hours passed, and before I knew it, one of the wall panels was kicked inwards and Nikolas Walker came in, cool and casual with a short greeting, "Maximum."

His voice was calm, not rising nor dropping, enough to fool anyone. It was as velvety smooth as Fang's, maybe even more.

My head shot up painfully fast and I tried to focus in on his approaching figure, but my eyes blurred and suddenly, to me, there was two Nickolas Walkers, sliding back and forth. I wiped my eyes and looked again, but they were as bad as before, mixed and fuzzed.

I didn't need my eyes to know he was smiling.

"There's a reason you're like this. You probably can't think straight. Your vision is messed up. You feel weak and your muscles ache painfully. I'd tell you what it is, but I think you can guess."

It's a drug. I'm being drugged.

"Normally, my victims don't suffer much pain. I like the more…quick and easy…method. Just one slash to the throat usually works.

Despite my weakened state, I still managed to deliver a death glare, "You did…, "another gasp, " kill them!"

"Yes, Maximum, I did. And I have absolutely no regret."

In court, just like TV, they do ask for motive. Nickolas Walker has none. So far, "Why?"

"Ah! The Golden Question. Why in fact did I kill those, what, five people? Well, Max, that's an easy one, "he scoffed," but it's going to have to wait for another time. For now, let's focus on the important matter at hand. My son."

(I imagine this part like the point in every NCIS episode just before commercial break where they say some kind of cliffy then it's FLASH! And the commercial starts. So, try to picture it like that.)

I felt my body go rigid and my fists clench as I said, "What about him?"

"I need him to help me. I have a feeling that…I could use him."

My anger boiled, Use him? Use him for what? Slashing peoples throats and living a life of sadness and death?

"How?" I said slowly.

"Wouldn't you like to know? How about this, I'll let you call him and give him a message from me when you're coherent and functional, but until then, have a great evening."

I'm guessing he walked out, but in my haze all I could see was a figure zigzagging and then slipping through the wall again. An audible bang! of the wall panel confirmed my suspicions.

I screeched in frustration and barely winced at the searing pain. God damnit! Why couldn't my life be moderately simple for once?

Little pause-y thing!

After three or four hours, the drug finally wore off and my body was finally functional again. For effect I jogged, stretched, tested my muscles all over the room and decided, despite a slight headache, I was relatively okay, and ready for a fight whenever it may come to it.

I was on my forty-second push-up when the panel was kicked in.

In seconds I was on my feet, legs at shoulder distance and arms crossed over my chest. My oily hair hung over my face as I said as politely (which trust me, wasn't very polite), "Welcome to hell, a guaranteed turn from your already hectic life. Feel free to join me at any time!"

He walked in, two men trailing behind him, "Hello to you too. I see you're in a peppy mood."

My face twisted in confusion, "I thought serial killers didn't have goons!"

He smirked a smirk, one that I had come to know as Fang's smirk and explained, "They don't. But then again, I'm not a serial killer. That's what you assume. But my victims aren't random. Each and every one of them I know, and each and every one of them I hate."

Okay, he got me there, "You don't seem the type for hate crime."

He shook his head in disappointment, "There you go again, Max. You're assuming. Actually, I did hate them. I hated them because they all had something I wanted. Something I would do anything to get, "I'm almost positive he tried to sound peppy, but he failed miserably as he said, "Anyway, back to a happier subject! Guess what!"

I only cocked my hip and raised an eyebrow.

He sighed, "Not one for child games, huh? Hmm…maybe you are grown up enough for young Nich. You'd be good for him."

My mask didn't falter at the mention of Fang; but inside, my heart started going haywire.

I rolled my eyes, "Get on with it, Walker. Are you going to kill me or not? I'm obviously not going anywhere!"

He pretended to think about it, "Maybe. Maybe not. You have something in common with all of those people, you know. I wanted something from them and guess what? I want something from you."

I whispered, "Fang."

He smiled, "Yes. Fang indeed. I promised you that you could talk with him, right?, "He was handed a phone from one of his goons and tossed it onto the small bed," Well, I plan to keep that promise."

He turned to walk out the door, but halted and said one more thing, "Don't bother telling him where you are. Because, let's face it, you don't even know where you are."

He smirked that smirk again and walked out the panel, his goons following obediently.

I waited until it slammed shut and walked hesitantly over to the small bed. I climbed on and brought my knees to my chest, resting my head on them lightly. I stared at the small, black cellular device for a long time, building up the courage.

Finally, I brought a shaky hand down and scooped it up, hearing the dial tone clearly. My other hand came up slowly and started punching numbers, dialing Fang's number.

The first ring started and I brought the device to my ear, mentally willing him to pick up.

"Come on, come on, come on." I pleaded with it, ready to throw it at the wall and stomp on it.

At the seventh ring I was ready to give up, but at the last second I heard a defeated, "What?"

I gasped, hating the sound of his voice. The velvety smoothness was gone, replaced by a cold and cracked one. So lost, so empty, so broken.

"Hello? …Nobody's even there huh? …You know, I'm waiting for an important call here! Hell, my possible girlfriend is missing, maybe even dead! And here you are, wasting my time while I lay here, depressed out of my mind!"

Despite my state and his broken voice, I couldn't help but smile slightly as I said, "Fang, it's me. Max."

It took a whole minute for him to respond, his soft and hopeful "Max?"

"Yeah, blabbermouth. It's me."

"Oh..my..god, Max! Where are you? Are you all right? Did he hurt you? If he did, I swear I'll kick him in th-"

His voice was frantic as I cut him off, laced deeply with worry and excitement, "Hey! Fang, I'm all right. No, he did not hurt me, just drugged me. And, well, I have no idea where I am."

His voice seemed even more broken as he said, "Max…we're going to find you, all right? There's absolutely no way I'm letting you go, not now. I love you too much to let you die, especially because of my dad. Oh god, my dad is going to kill you, isn't he? This is my entire fault! If I hadn't decided to hang out with you, this would have never happened-"

I cut him off again, this time overwhelmed, "You love me?"

I didn't here from him for a while before he took a deep breath, "Yes, Maximum Ride, I'm in love with you. Damnit, you are the soul thing I think about anymore. I'm not even worried in the slightest about my dad being a serial killer! Instead, I'm freaking out inside that you might accidentally cut yourself while shaving! How stupid is that? You're great and oh god, you're just awesome! You're tough, you're sarcastic, and you're beautiful, "He paused for a second, "Max, I love you. So much."

Did you catch it? Max said she loved Fang somewhere in there. Yup, that's right. Maximum Ride is in fact in love with Fang, even if she doesn't completely realize it yet.

AND FANG IS IN LOVE WITH MAX! NO SURPRISE THERE!

If you didn't notice that the 'fax scene' was totally crappy, it's because I currently am very pissed at my semi-partial-co-writer who writes all my fax scenes that I get really awkward during, and we're kind of avoiding each other at all costs. Ya, hope you guys don't think it's crappy.