Max and Fang blurby one-shot thingiemabobbers

Part Deux

WARNING: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS!!!

Part Deux

"MAX!" Fang bellowed, watching her fall to the floor of her cage. He felt numb. His mind wasn't processing what was going on. He wasn't sure he wanted it to.

The first thing that clued him in that something was wrong was that Max's chest wasn't rising and falling as it should. In fact, she was completely still. He couldn't see her face, but her hands and arms were much too pale for it to be safe.

The second thing was the whitecoats. They'd left after one of them had snuck up behind Max and injected her, but they'd left the lights on, and the door slightly open. What felt like hours later, they returned to the room, their eyes widening when they saw her crumpled on the bottom of her crate. One pulled her out, and Fang caught sight of her face.

It was white as a sheet, with tear stains on her cheeks. One final tear was making its way down her cheek, and Fang watched in numb horror as it fell to the white tiled floor.

The second whitecoat put his fingers to Max's wrist, then her neck. He shook his head.

"No pulse. It killed her."

Fang didn't hear the reply. His vision started going spotty, and his breathing became erratic. Everything finally clicked.

Max was gone. The whitecoats had killed her.

"NO! MAX!" It was as if he were watching from the outside as another Fang threw himself against the bars of the cage, howling with rage and despair and pain. The whitecoats paid him no mind as they placed Max's body unceremoniously onto a metal gurney and wheeled it out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Fang had lapsed into grief-stricken silence, his heart in shatters.

Gone.

Images of Max, of alive Max, flitted through his head like a movie. Images of her laughing, smiling, glaring, scowling, yelling at someone (probably Iggy or the Gasman)... Images of her heartbroken face when Angel had been kidnapped, and of her holding the younger kids of the flock, comforting them.

He saw her soaring through the sky, her face glowing with happiness as she caught a warm updraft. Then he saw her fighting an Eraser, her face a mask of rage, yet not without the glint of elation in her eye as she punched the lights out of the mutant.

He remembered how terrified he'd been when he'd found her on the beach in Florida, blood pooled around her. He remembered how torn she'd been at the time, how lost and confused she was.

He relived the night on the Long Island beach, when Max had kissed him for the first time. He'd been so shocked, all he could get out was "Ow." He'd mentally kicked himself for a while, which hadn't helped his pounding head at the time, then had reverted back to teasing Max about it, because teasing her was so much fun.

He saw the next few times they'd kissed, when she'd run off, surprised and uncertain. And then, that first real time, when she hadn't.

He remembered holding her in his arms, the way she felt so familiar, so right.

Dead.

He saw her tear-stained face last, her brown eyes wide and shining with tears as they looked at him through the bars of her cage. She'd said his name.

***

Fang hardly noticed when a whitecoat came in some time later, holding a clipboard. She'd asked him a few questions, but he didn't hear them. He stared straight ahead, unaware of everything but the pain of the hole in his heart, a hole only Max could fill.

The whitecoat turned out the lights and left after realizing that he wasn't going to say anything. A few minutes later, the door opened again. Fang didn't bother to look up and see another whitecoat.

The person shut the door quietly behind herself, leaving the room dark. Somewhere, a small part of Fang found this odd, but it quickly passed. What did it matter if it was dark?

"Fang," a voice whispered. It was a familiar voice. An all-too-familiar voice that constricted his shattered heart.

It was Max's voice.

~*~

Part dos of my little whatchamacallit. It's quite cheesy, I know. But its sweet, right?

The characters and idea belong to James Patterson.