I AM BACK FROM THE DEAD.

Seriously. I'm SO, SO sorry for not updating until now (I promise it had NOTHING WHATSOEVER to do with reviews). I had an EXTREMELY horrible case of Writer's Block for this story. I don't like to post A/Ns as chapters, so I guess I pretty much disappeared off the face of the earth, but this story was on hatius for a while.

Thanks to my amazing reviewers: merlincrazy, ArtemisandApolloRock26, Mrs. RINA, Wingedgymnast12, storyteller1425, Manjo667, AmyQueen95, IwriteUread, iluvbooks379, PurpleTea88, FANGirl, Janxi, and LightningstormZero.

Chapter Five

The Challenge

Nine Days until Expiration Date

The next day already, he thought as soon as he blinked open his eyes. Nine more days. Just nine more days to live.

Yesterday, at Dr. Martinez's Christmas party, he'd been so glad to see the rest of the Flock again, but as soon as Angel saw him, she stuck close to him and played nice. As soon as she got him alone in a room, she demanded to know more about his expiration date.

He'd hoped that it had been covered up by other thoughts, happy memories of the Flock, but behind all that, there was the constant thought: This might be the last time I see the Flock all together again. Happy. Enjoying themselves.

Angel guessed, "You haven't told Max yet, have you?"

Shame burned inside him, and even though it wasn't necessary, that Angel could read his mind and already knew the answer by now, he replied, "No. I want to, but… every time I try… I just can't."

Angel had blinked and smiled sympathetically. It had stunned him to see how much she'd changed from the seven-year-old he'd known. She was fifteen now, tall, with beautiful curly blonde hair, her eyes blue as a cloudless afternoon sky, her mascara outlining them perfectly. She reached up and put her hand on his shoulder. "I know you don't want to break Max's heart again, Fang. I know you love her. But no matter what, even if you don't tell her, it doesn't change the fact that you're going to die in ten days –nine tomorrow –and you'll still break her heart. Think about it: would you rather her know what was going on, or die with her being left in the dark?"

"I've already thought about it," he sighed, clenching his fists, finding it hard to believe he still had to defend himself to Angel. "And I know I have to do it. I just can't. Every time I try, the words leave me."

"Maybe we can tell her together then," she had suggested. There had been no hint of authority or force in her voice; she was completely sincere. She honestly wanted to help him. But Fang knew there was no help for him. He had an expiration date. All he could do was hope that he'd somehow made a difference in the Flocks' lives…. Jeez, how depressed was he?

"No. I know you want to help and everything, but I'm the one who has to do it," he said. "Do me a favor: don't tell anybody. Promise to keep it a secret."

Angel crossed her arms, looking stern and paused, thinking over his proposal for a moment. "Okay, but only if you tell Max."

"By when?" Fang knew that Angel was suggesting a deadline. He could hear it in her voice.

"I'll give you six days from tomorrow. That should be enough time for you to muster your courage and tell Max." Angel said. "But remember: the longer you wait, the harder it'll be to tell her."

Then she had turned and walked away to talk with the others, leaving Fang alone in the room with the scent of pine and cinnamon; the aroma of Christmas.

Fang rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked at Max, curled up next to him, sleeping softly. He still felt sleepy; he knew he should relax again against her and retreat back into the comforting black unconsciousness, but as tired as he was, his mind was not exhausted in the slightest. The second he woke up he thought about the moment he would die –the moment where his unconsciousness would be permanent.

Pessimistic, Fang knew he was becoming a pessimist, but hey, when you're going to die in nine days and one of your Flock members gave you six days to tell the love of your life that you were going to die, not to mention the fact that you haven't seen her for six years, and just got back together again, it isn't easy to look on the bright side of things.

He had no idea how he would tell Max. And Angel had given him six days. Six days was not nearly enough time to figure out how to tell Max he was dying.

He looked out the window –still dark outside; must be about four in the morning. And they'd gotten back home pretty late. No wonder he still felt tired. He laid there in bed, thinking about how he would say it to Max, and what her reaction would be until finally his mind gave into his body's complaints and he sank back into sleep.

"Wake up," Max's voice reached his ears, and he jerked awake.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said. Max was sitting up on the bed, looking a bit groggy. "We slept in. It's already noon."

"Okay," he replied, getting up. "What are we going to do, then?"

Max stared out of the window. The sky was dark with black clouds, and thunder rumbled, lightning flashed. "Well, we aren't going to go outside, that's for sure. We'd be killed in that lightning storm."

Fang had to force himself not to flinch at her words; they were meant figuratively. And even if Max had guessed –which was hopefully very unlikely –he knew her enough to know that she'd never deliver such a low blow.

"Yeah," he agreed. "So, you up for a movie, then?"

"Sure," she grinned. "Too late for breakfast anyway. We might as well make some popcorn."

Half an hour later they were both dressed, clean, and popping the popcorn.

"Catch this," Max threw a piece of popcorn in the air, and Fang caught it in his mouth. He crunched it, savoring the salty, buttery taste of it.

He grabbed one and threw it at Max. "Here ya go."

She tried to catch it, but missed. "Darn it."

"Too bad," he said. "It tasted good."

She threw a handful of popcorn at him, and he managed to catch only one in his mouth, the rest of the pieces dropping to the floor. He gazed down at the mess they'd made. "We should clean up."

"After our movie marathon," Max said. She took the bowl of popcorn and turned on the TV. "Come on!"

Titanic. They watched Titanic. Fang wouldn't have minded (well, maybe a little. He wasn't one for romancy-shmancy movies, and it surprised him Max put it on, but she said she liked to laugh at how people think their lives are horrible when there are others who are much worse off), but now that he had an expiration date, it was cruel to watch such a movie. It was as if he were on the Titanic, with no escape, sinking slowly, drowning, drowning, dying… By the end of the movie, he was about ready to burst out the fact that he was to die in a few days.

He almost did, too.

But Max turned off the TV, and said full-heartedly, "Time to clean up that popcorn tornado in the kitchen!"

And with Max in such a good mood, he didn't want to spoil it.

The longer you wait, the harder it'll be to tell her. Angel's voice whispered in the back of his mind.

I know, I know, Fang thought. But it was plenty hard now.

So. I don't really like this chapter, but whatever. Fang's too despairing. Don't wait up on me updating soon; I'll try, but I still haven't completely shaken off my Writer's Block yet. But it IS summer, so you can always hope. :)

From now on, if you're signed in, I'll PM with my review response. If you're anonymous, I'll answer you here.

Wingedgymnast: Thank you, but I have my own agenda, as you've read above. ;) And I did, see?

FANGirl: I understand you perfectly. I hate myself for doing it, actually. I heart Fang!

~Coqui's Song