She is tired of pretending. She is good at it, God, she is good at it, but she is tired of it. She is tired of pasting on a smile every day, tired of pretending that she is fine, tired of trying to make herself feel something for Dylan. She can't do it anymore. She can't pretend that she doesn't still feel his lips; warm and soft, familiar and inviting against her own. She can't pretend that his voice isn't ringing through her head; that it isn't as familiar to her as her own. She's tired of tricking herself, of letting herself, even for a few minutes, believe that Dylan is Fang…he isn't, and she can't keep pretending that he is. She can't keep pretending that he can ever be Fang, she just can't.

She shouldn't have bothered to begin with. To give the flock this act; to allow them to think that maybe, just maybe their Max could come back…she should never have bothered with that. She should never have tried to get their hopes up…not when they're just going to be crushed back down in the end. Of course, she hadn't planned on this, at least, that's what she tells herself…she tells herself that she hasn't been silently planning this for the last month. And, in a way, maybe she hasn't been, maybe it just happened, but somehow she doubts that. Somewhere, deep inside of her, she had been waiting for this, watching and planning, waiting for her flock to be strong enough to get through this. Waiting for herself to be strong enough to get through this if she's being completely honest.

She had watched her flock, at dinner that night she had pasted a big smile on her face, and just watched them. She wasn't sure what she had been watching for, or maybe she was, because whatever she saw, it was enough. Enough to convince her that it's time, that they're ready and, by default, that she is ready; enough to convince herself that she can do this.

Her hands are shaking, and tears are streaming down her face as she steps into the bathtub, the one in the basement; the last thing she needs is for one of the kids to find her. Before or after it's done. No, that wouldn't do; the only person who is likely to find her down here is Mom, or maybe Iggy…much better than Angel, Gazzy, or Nudge; much better.

The tub is half full, and she allows herself to sink into it, not caring a bit that she is fully-clothed…or, at least, in her night-shirt. She is afraid that she will drop the razor, that's how badly her hands are shaking. She does drop it once, but promptly picks it back up, not allowing herself any more time to think.

It hurts, and it is hard; but still she forces it to go deep, and then deeper still until the water is too dark to see through. Her strength is ebbing out slowly, with each pulse of blood her life force seems to be slipping away. It should be scary, but it's not, it's not at all; it's a relief. There is no pain as she opens her other wrist, she has gone too numb for pain. All she feels is relief, because, for the first time in a month, there is no pretending.

The tub is filling up now, the red turning deeper shades by the second, and as it does Maximum Ride is growing weaker. She is unconscious long before her heart stops.

Just miles away he bolts up suddenly, not sure why, but drenched with sweat. His heart is beating fast, faster than he thought possible; ice seems to flood his veins; something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

He doesn't know what compels him to pick up the bedside phone, but with shaking hands he does, dialing the number that he knows as Iggy's cell phone. It rings three times without an answer and with dismay he looks at the clock, it is three a.m., Iggy won't be awake, hell, he shouldn't be awake. But for whatever reason he is, and he lets out a huge sigh of relief as the other phone is picked up.

"Hello?" The other voice is just a murmur, tired, but still he recognizes it as Iggy in an instant.

"Iggy, this is Fang. You've got to go check on Max." A force within him is compelling him to say the words, what that force is, he's not sure, but for whatever reason it is urgent and nearly screaming. "In the basement bathroom, if the door is locked bust it down, you've got to go now, Man."

"What are you talking about?" The voice is instantly alert, and he feels a wave of frustration go through him.

"I don't know, I don't know. I just woke up and I've got this feeling…" With an angry sigh, "You've got to go, though, now, hurry!" He is screaming and suspects that if he doesn't stop he will be kicked out of the hotel, but he doesn't care. His heart is still racing and he can't shake the feeling that it is already too late, that the worst has happened. What the worst is, he has no clue, just that he is fighting to keep from dropping the telephone through his trembling hands.

"Okay, okay, relax, Man." He hears the words but they don't seem to compute, "I'm going down there now."

He breathes a little easier but his entire body is tense, there is a noise on the other line and instantly he is alert, "What is it? What was that?"

"The door is locked; I'm trying to break it down." It sounds as if his teeth are gritted but there is also a sense of disbelief in it. He holds his breath. "Shit."

"What? What is it, Iggy?" He feels dread curling around his stomach and he thinks that he might puke.

"I don't know, Man," His voice almost seems to be a wail, subdued, but a wail nonetheless, the way it sounds when frightened. He'd only ever heard Iggy sound like that once, when Jeb disappeared, it had scared the shit out of him then and it scares the shit out of him now. "I can smell blood, really smell it. I can't see, though. Man, I'm calling 911."

The phone dropped out of his hand at blood, he is out the window in seconds.

A/N: I did change the title of this, just in case anyone was wondering. I also added to this first chapter, and now I feel a little bit better about it. Please REVIEW, EVERYBODY, I need some opinions. I probably will not get to update this as often as I would like, because I'm very heavily invested in some other projects at the moment, but the more reviews I get the bigger a priority this becomes. So, please, LEAVE FEEDBACK.