Authors Note: I've never done a song-fic before, but I've read enough to know that this isn't going to be anything like the others. At least not that I've really read. Trust me.

Anyway, this doesn't take place before or after a certain book. Nothing in Max or Fang happened though. Let's just say the world is saved, and the flock moved in with Dr. Martinez and Ella, taking up semi-normal lives. Meaning, of course, they go to school and have friends and such. Except they have wings and a totally gruesome past. Get it?

*Important* Also, in most song-fics, there's the song written out with a few sentences between some lines to explain the characters thoughts towards the lyrics. That's where my story is different. You'll see a verse, and then there will be quite a bit posted in between that. The ones in italics are memories of Max's, and are not presented in the exact order they happened. It kind of flips back and forth, depending on what past event she's basing the lyrics off of. In normal print is the present, and what she's feeling at that exact moment.

Alright, I won't keep you any longer! Read on . . .

Disclaimer: I don't own the Maximum Ride series, or the song I'd Lie, by Taylor Swift.

I'd Lie

I wasn't much one for song-writing. In fact, the thought had never occurred to me. I was musically impaired as far as I was concerned. That's what came with being a bird-kid raised in a lab, disconnected from the rest of world, and on the run for most of your life.

I was hurting though. I was a lovestruck, heartbroken mutant. For the past few months I hadn't been reclusive or depressed, like most heroines were. I just pretended like nothing was different . . . and everyone noticed, but most of the time they didn't know what to make of it. They had given up their attempts at talking to me about it a long time ago. Now they just let things be . . . and I was okay with that.

I could tell it affected them more than they were letting on, though. How would you feel if your leader, the girl who had been a rock through all the hard times, suddenly withered? I knew I had to pull myself together, and believe me I tried. It was harder than it looked though.

But when Ella suggested it, as a form of therapy . . . I figured I might as well humor her.

I didn't expect to agonize over it for hours on end, tweaking it here and there. I never thought I would feel so moved by the rush of emotions I felt coursing through my body, or how uplifting it felt to see them all drift away as the right words just came to me. The last thing that ever struck my mind, was that the song would actually be kind of . . . good.

I also didn't foresee me standing on the stage at my school's stupid talent show, all eyes on me. Somehow, with the assistance of a ton of Bambi eyes and pleading looks; Angel, Nudge and Ella had managed to convince me that singing my song, which I had poured every particle of my heart into, in front of hundreds of people wasn't a total disaster waiting to happen.

Yeah, right. Suffice to say, I wasn't a happy camper.

"You'll be fine," Ella assured me, just before they called my name. "Just sing like you did to us, and everything will be okay."

"I can't," I hissed, wringing my hands nervously. I could face down an army of Eraser's no problem. When it came to an insignificant high school talent show though, I freaked.

"Yes you can. Max, you have an amazing voice, and you're song is seriously moving. People are going to be so impressed that you wrote it," Ella insisted, grinning at me.

"He's out there though. Somewhere in that crowd. He's going to know it's about him." It wasn't like me to get so worked up, but something about this whole situation had me flustered beyond belief.

"Even better. Sing it straight to him. If you can't tell him how you feel by easy means, then let him now right now."

"I-" I had been fully prepared to argue further, ready to talk myself out of this, when a teacher helping backstage yanked me towards the curtain, mumbling something in my ear about me being on. I sucked in a terrified breath, my face going pale. I couldn't do this.

Yet here I stood, silently watching the crowd, every eye pivoted on me. It had been too easy to pick him out from the audience, watching in that piercing, unnerving way of his.

I swallowed thickly as the first notes of the song spluttered from the speakers. A friend of Ella's was in a band, and they helped put together the instrumental part, for which I was suddenly un-thankful for. If they hadn't I wouldn't be here right now, opening my mouth to belt out the first words . . .

"I don't think that passenger seat

has ever looked this good to me

he tells me about his night

and I count the colors in his eyes"

"Six or seven pancakes?" Iggy inquired, not looking up from the pan sizzling in front of him.

"Um . . . seven," I answered, lounging back in my chair. The rest of the flock was eating happily, chatting to their respective table-mates. Angel and Nudge were in a deep discussion about which pop-star was hotter. I didn't recognize the names, so I just rolled my eyes at their attempts to bring me into their dispute.

Gazzy was chirping away to Iggy as he prepared breakfast, sliding one pancake after the other onto my rapidly filling plate. My mouth watered at the same time my stomach gurgled ferociously. Iggy laughed at the sound, handing me my food. I took it with a murmured thanks, settling in with a fork and the bottle of syrup.

"Morning everyone," Ella said, breezing into the room. Her hair was pulled back loosely, a few tendrils sweeping into her eyes. It was only seven in the morning, but she was already perfectly dressed for school.

"Hey," I greeted her over a mouthful of pancake, and she pursed her lips like Mom did when we didn't use our 'manners'. You'd think they'd be used to our rotten etiquette by now, but they refused to consider it a lost cause.

"Where's-?" she began.

"Here," he said, entering the room. He swiped a pancake from my plate, shoving it into his mouth before I could make a remark. He smirked down at me, and I quickly averted my gaze. He seemed unaffected by this.

"I have to get to school early. Let's go," he said to me, and I frowned. I nodded all the same, abandoning my breakfast, which wasn't even halfway gone. I could tell everyone noticed. Except for him. He never did.

I walked behind him at a slower pace, watching as he slid into the drivers side of our car. Yeah, we had a car. Mom bought it for me for my sixteenth birthday, and now that Fang had his license too, we shared it.

"Come on. I don't have all day," he said teasingly, smirking at me again. Suddenly there was nowhere I'd rather be than in that passenger seat, right next to him. I climbed in, my heart skipping a beat at the close proximity.

"So what'd you do last night?" I wondered aloud, scrambling for something to break the silence. He glanced over at me, his face so close that I almost stopped breathing. I stared deeply into his eyes, noticing for the first time they weren't just flat and dark. I counted the colors, varying from a rich brown to a striking amber. There were even flashes of a deep, dark blue throughout, if you looked just a certain way.

The spell was broken when he turned his attention back to the road, telling me about what he had been doing of the late.

"He'll never fall in love he swears

as he runs his fingers through his hair

I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong"

The night air was still around us, and in the distance you could vaguely hear the sounds of the cicadas chirping. The sun had already dipped beyond the horizon, its fiery display at sunset fading into the grey twilight. The moon had appeared in the sky, the smallest sliver of a crescent. It gave off a faint light, and even with my raptor vision I could barely see a few feet in front of me.

"We should head back," I suggested, glancing over at him. He was lying on the ground, his hands propped up behind his head. When he finally dragged his gaze from the stars, his expression was thoughtful.

"Not yet," he stated simply, looking away once more. I wanted more than ever to be able to read his mind. To just know what he was thinking without having to ask, only to get a vague reply in answer. I didn't care that it was a major breach in privacy. Angel didn't seem to mind it much, after all.

We lapsed into silence, and I couldn't stop myself from studying him intently. I took in his long frame, nestled against the soft grass. His eyes glinted in the dark, flashing when he moved. I knew he could sense my gaze, but he didn't try to deter or question my actions, so I kept on looking. His hair fanned out around his head, looking as perfectly messy as always. I examined every inch of his face, committing every detail to memory.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked suddenly, without taking his eyes from the sky. His question surprised me, and it took me a moment to come up with an answer.

"What?" What a brilliant response.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I can't imagine myself falling in love."

My whole body went numb, and I felt myself shut down. I managed to choke out a laugh, and he turned to smirk at me, his obsidian eyes somehow sparkling even though they blended in with the night. I wished with everything I had that he was wrong, because it was then that I realized why I thought some of the things I did about him. Only then, when it was obviously too late, did I come to the right conclusion.

I was in love with him.

"And I don't think it ever crossed his mind

he tells a joke

I fake a smile

that I know all his favorite songs"

It was true. He always acted so oblivious, as if he honestly couldn't see what he was doing to me. He'd go around, normal as always, not seeing the effect he had on my heart.

He'd quip out the occasional sarcastic remark, and I would laugh along, smiling even though just the sight of him sent a pang through my chest. He couldn't see through the lies . . . or maybe he just didn't care enough to try.

Even so, it didn't stop me from wondering. I knew everything there was to know about him, so why couldn't he make an effort to do the same for me?

"And I could tell you

his favorite color's green

he loves to argue

born on the seventeenth

his sister's beautiful

he has his father's eyes

and if you asked me if I love him

I'd lie"

I sat, content in a contemplative silence, staring at the choices before me. Mom's decision to move to a bigger house wasn't that surprising. With only two bedrooms and one bathroom in her previous home, we were in dire need of more space. Suddenly adopting six genetically enhanced mutants and a talking dog, along with his girlfriend, wasn't exactly a good idea under the circumstances. We all did our best, but we could only stand so much of Nudge hogging the bathroom for four hours at a time.

So with the money Mom had mysteriously acquired, which most likely had something to do with Jeb, she had set off on her house hunt. In the end we didn't move very far. The house was still in the same town, same school district, everything. It was set out a good distance into a forest, in a pretty and most likely man-made clearing. It's seclusion was good for us. We could roam free without having to worry about hiding our wings in case of nosy neighbors.

After some construction, adding on a few rooms, it was finally time to decorate. At the moment I was deciding between two colors for my room. One was a beautiful azure, the exact same color as the sky on a clear, cloudless day. The other was light orange.

"Difficulties deciding?" a low, smooth voice inquired from behind me.

"It's a bit more difficult than yours," I insisted, without turning my head. "Black's your favorite color, obviously."

"Not it's not," he replied. Finally I looked over, seeing him leaning in the doorway, his dark hair flopping in his eyes.

"Oh? Then what is it?" I returned my attention to the paint samples, studying them intently. A part of me hoped that some sign would just jump out at me. Who would have thought that the hardest decision I had made in a long time was this? Especially knowing my history.

"Green," he said offhandedly.

I raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. "Why green?"

"It's very contradictory," he explained, only furthering my confusion.

"What I mean is," he continued, noting my bewilderment, "we have wings. One of the most important thing's in our life is the sky . . . which is blue. So it makes no sense for my favorite color to be green."

"So then why is it?" I was struggling to understand. I had a feeling he was sharing something too profound and deep for me to grasp. He seemed to sense this too, because he chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

"Paint the walls orange, and the ceiling blue," he suggested, and I grinned at the brilliant idea.

"He looks around the room

innocently overlooks the truth

shouldn't a light go on

doesn't he know that I've had him memorized for so long

He see's everything black and white

never lettin' nobody see him cry

I don't let nobody see me wishin' he was mine"

I was too scared to look at him; to make any sort of eye contact. I was frightened at his reaction, because by now he was smart enough to realize that it was about him. That I had written my song based on us. I focused on a spot beyond the crowd, honing in on a banner hung on the auditorium wall.

We hadn't reversed rolls at all. I was still avoiding his eyes, wishing he would just love me back. He couldn't deny it anymore. He couldn't do just what the lyrics said, and overlook the truth that had been staring him in the face for months. The light had finally flipped on.

I was still caught in the cross-roads, wondering how he felt now that he knew.

"I could tell you

his favorite color's green

he loves to argue

born on the seventeenth

his sister's beautiful

he has his father's eyes

and if you asked me if I love him

I'd lie"

I tried to gauge his reaction, all the while knowing I would fail. He was good at hiding his emotions . . . too good. The ever-present wall had been thrown up, his expression carefully blank. I couldn't see a single flicker in his eye's.

"So?" I mused, peering closer. He shuffled the papers in his lap, his finger twitching as he read on. The manila folder they had come from was propped between us, his name scrawled neatly at the top.

Jeb had brought it on one of his visits. I usually steered clear of him when he dropped by. I didn't care how many times he claimed he was my father, just because he took part in -shudder- making me, didn't mean he was my dad. Maybe biologically . . . but emotionally, no.

I continued watching, biting my lip as he continued skimming through the documents, his lips trembling slightly as he mouthed the words to himself. Finally, after what seemed like hours he let them go limp in his lap. Wordlessly, he handed them to me, giving me permission to look.

I skipped over all the boring, scientific stuff, moving on to something more interesting. I read the names of his parent's, my eyes widening as it gave a listing to their current address. It even included a phone number. Dread settled in. What if he wanted to meet them? What if he decided he wanted to live with them?

A faint smile eventually came to my face, as I found the information concerning his birth. I glanced up at him, seeing him study my reactions with a blank stare.

"What's it like, knowing you were born July eighteenth?" I asked, carefully watching his expression.

He shrugged, his lips twitching. "I think I'm more of a July seventeenth kind of guy."

"He stands there, then walks away

my God, if I could only say

I'm holding every breath for you"

It was still striking me how true my words were. Even as I sung them, in front of hundreds of my classmates, who I would undoubtedly have to see multiple times after this much to my mortification, the feeling was still fresh.

It wasn't like me to express my feelings in such a way. I had never really expressed interest in music. When did I ever have time for that, growing up? Still, writing this song had been . . . easy. Almost effortless.

And all of it had happened.

"He'd never tell you

but he can play guitar

I think he can see through

everything but my heart

first thought when I wake up,

is my God he's beautiful

so I put on my makeup

and pray for a miracle"

I hesitated outside the door, suddenly unsure of myself. Was it really worth the humiliation . . .? Yes, I decided firmly. At this point I would do anything to get his attention. To make him see me in a different light.

I raised my hand before I could chicken out, knocking softly. A heard a muffled response, and I gently eased the door open. Ella's back was to me as she sat at her vanity, applying a light amount of lip gloss.

"Oh, hi Max," she greeted me, her eyes shining.

"Hi," I mumbled in reply, glaring down at the floor. I was still standing in the doorway, biting my lip in anxiety.

"You can come in," she said teasingly, smiling warmly. I returned the gesture, carefully shutting the door behind me. I walked across the small space separating us, coming to a stop at her side. She turned back to the mirror, twisting her hair up before letting it fall again.

"I needed to ask you something," I admitted, fumbling with the edge of my t-shirt.

"What?" she asked curiously, sticking a bobby pin into her ponytail.

"I was wondering if I could borrow some of your . . . makeup."

She froze, her mouth open in a wide 'o' of shock. I shifted from foot to foot, suddenly uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

"I said, I-" I began again, thinking maybe if I said it twice she wouldn't be so surprised. At my words she managed to close her mouth, but her eyes were still wide.

"I know what you said," she hurried to say. "I'm just having a hard time believing it."

"Never mind," I muttered, whirling around. Well that was a failure.

"No!" she cried, latching onto my arm. She proceeded to drag me back, plopping me down in the seat she previously occupied. She looked at me through the mirror, something twinkling in her eyes. "I'll help you."

"Yes I could tell you

his favorite color's green

he loves to argue

Oh, and it kills me

his sister's beautiful

he has his father's eyes

and if you asked me if I love him"

I twiddled with my thumb nervously, biting my lip. It had become a habit of mine. I glanced over at him, but he was staring blankly at the ground, completely still. I wished he would just open up; tell me what he was feeling for once.

"Here they come," Mom said excitedly, and both he and I turned our heads at the same time, watching the car moving rapidly in our direction, closing the distance quickly.

"Are you okay?" I asked him quietly, so Mom wouldn't hear. My voice was thick, and sounded hollow to my ears, but like so many other things, he didn't notice. He just nodded in response, not even looking at me. I suppressed a resigned sigh, my shoulders drooping.

Finally the sleek, black vehicle pulled to a stop in the driveway. There was a pause as the engine cut, and then three doors were being flung open. A tall, lithe woman appeared from the passenger seat, her hair black as a raven's wing, and pin straight. Her eyes were an icy blue, but her smile was wide as she looked at him, having a sight for nothing else.

A man walked around the front of the car, taking the woman by the arm. He led her toward us. I examined him as he walked. His wavy brown hair was cropped short, and he had a business suit on. His dark eyes were identical to a certain bird-kids, and I found my breath catching at the thought that these were his parents.

A girl skipped up behind them, her long hair swinging as she moved. She was probably only a few years younger than us. Her features were petite and straight, her lips upturned in a smile. She was like a female version of him, and just as beautiful.

"Hello," the woman said, and he heard his mother's voice for the first time.

"If you asked me if I love him

I'd lie"

As the final words drifted out of my mouth I wrenched my gaze back to his, forcing myself to look at him. I stared him straight in the eye, seeing the recognition there. I held his gaze until the last notes floated into the air, before being enveloped in a thunderous applause. I blushed lightly, trying to smile in thanks. Anyone that knew me though, could tell it was more of a grimace.

I exited the stage as quickly as I could, shoving the microphone into the first person's hand I saw. Ella caught up to me as I was opening the back door. I needed some air. Majorly.

"Oh my God, Max!" she gushed. "That was amazing. I swear to you, it was so moving. Everyone in that room felt it."

"Yeah," I muttered, leaning against the cold brick wall.

"Did you see his face! It looked like someone hit him with a truck."

"Thanks, Ella," I replied sarcastically, wincing at her words.

"I-in a good way," she insisted, seeing her error. I just shook my head, laughing without any real humor. This whole night was turning bittersweet . . . without the sweet and all the bitter.

"Max?"

I jumped before freezing in place. His voice was like a knife, cutting deep. I knew there must have been a look of utter horror on my face, and I tried quickly to clear it away. I could sense him behind me, only a few feet away.

"Uh . . . I'll just leave you two alone," Ella mumbled, hurrying back inside. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. After a few seconds I mustered up enough courage to face him. Slowly I turned, but found I was unable to meet his eye. I settled on a spot just above his right shoulder.

"Fang," I stated slowly, letting his name roll off my tongue like poison. It was the first time I had said it in a long time. Not that he had ever payed any attention to that.

"Will you please look at me." His tone was low and soft, like velvet. There was still that edge though, painful to hear.

I swallowed thickly, glancing up. His eyes were as unreadable as ever, but I still found myself getting lost in their depth. Couldn't he see this was hurting me?

"You're song-" he began, but I couldn't take the humiliation of being rejected.

"Look, you don't have to say it. It was stupid to even write it in the first place. I never expected it to go that far. I get that the feelings aren't returned, alright? I get it." My words were broken, coming out strangled as my throat constricted painfully.

"What?" he asked, seemingly genuinely confused.

"I know you don't like me the same way." How many times was he going to make me say it? It got harder as it went on.

"You can't be serious." He sounded incredulous.

"I-" This time it was he who cut me off.

"You think I don't . . . Max, I've been in love with you since we were kids," he insisted, and my eyes widened.

"But that . . . that's impossible." My whole body was numb. My brain tried to process his words, but everything in me was too dense for it to pass through. The heavy weight of my heart was becoming uncomfortable.

"Is it that hard to believe?" he asked, glaring at me with an ethereal intensity.

"You told me so yourself! You said you couldn't imagine yourself falling in love," I shouted, balling my hands into fists. Where did he come off lying to me like this? Did he think it would make me feel better?

"That's because I already was. With you, Max. It's always been you." His last words came out hushed, a whisper. He moved closer, setting a gentle hand on my cheek. He tilted my head up, his lips brushing against mine as he murmured, "Always."

He kissed me then, his lips soft on mine. His other hand wound itself into my hair, pulling me closer. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed myself as tightly to him as possible . . .

And if I said I didn't enjoy every second of it, I'd be lying.

Authors Note: See, different. And quite long. More so than I ever thought it was going to be. Anyway, I'd really like your feedback on this. Me writing song-fics probably isn't going to happen a lot. In fact, it might be just a one-time thing. I still had fun doing it, though.

So, please review! I'd like it very much. You can tell me if it sucked. I know it's not normally what happens in song-fics, but it seemed like a good idea to me.

And I also realize that this isn't very in character . . . but for the sake of the story-line, it's going to have to be a bit off.