Maximum Ride: Picking Up the Pieces (A Maximum Ride Fanfic)

Chapter Fifteen: Life Goes On

Another week goes by.

Fang is more distant than usual, and he doesn't help take care of the triplets.

And time seems to physically speed up for me.

My stomach has blown up like a balloon, and is now as visibly distinct as it would be for a normal human after three or four months. But apparently, that's how long I'll have to wait.

Let the games begin.

As you've probably read, life goes on. Every two hours, I feed the triplets, and in between, I'm changing their diapers, playing with them, watching them with different members of the flock, switching their clothes between pajamas and regular clothes (which, at this stage in their lives, are practically the same), and sleeping. Then, repeat.

But yet, I'm enchanted by them, especially because Maximus looks just like me and Aidan looks just like Jeb, despite having fluffy tufts of Fang's hair. They babble and make noises. They giggle at practically everything, partically the nasty wind that Gazzy is famous for releasing. Kane is rather mysterious, but he seems to act a lot like Fang.

Fang, who should be here, learning about his children. Fang, who should be helping me with his children. Fang, who, though he angers me with a fiery passion at the moment, is the one person I actually want to be with right now.

It's nine o'clock in the morning. I've just woken up after an hour of sleep, and it will be another hour before I will, as usual, immerse myself back into the infant world. So I use my time wisely. I grab some of the clothes I had received at the baby shower, a red, purposely loose-fitting t-shirt, and a pair of jeans, then traipse into the shower. But I'm only in there about two minutes, almost finished, when I hear the magical sound of an infant's cries. Great. An early start. 'Cause that's exactly what they need.

I turn off the water and try to quickly get dressed. At this point, though, it's rather hard to ignore the constantly growing bulge that is my stomach. Once I'm dressed, I quickly walk to the nursery, where I find my mother changing the diaper of a screaming Maximus.

"Haven't had much experience doing this, eh, Mumsie?" I taunt my mother, who, despite her frantic efforts, can't get little Max to shut up. Almost as soon as she takes his diaper off and throws it in the white trash bin, he pees on her, and decides to switch from crying and screaming to giggling ecstatically and grabbing his feet. My mother looks at me wordlessly and spitefully, and I realize that she's hurt by what I've said.

"I'm sorry, Mom, it was a stupid thing for me to say." She simply looks down at the carpeted floor. I move to take her place and put a new diaper on Maximus, then pick him up and bounce him a bit. In the midst of my bouncing, I hand my mother a towel to wipe the urine from her face.

"I didn't originally come in here to change my grandson's diaper," she finally says, even though it's not what I expected to hear come out of her mouth. "I came in here because it's about the time their feathers should have developed." This clarifies things a bit, considering that on the rare occasions I have actually seen my children's wings, they were covered in a silky, yet invisible down, not actual feathers, like mine and Fang's. Now, they have feathers.

I direct my eyes to Maximus's wings, which are nearly a foot from my face. He has about a three foot wingspan. What amazes me the most about little Max's wings is that they are the one thing that makes him different from me. His wings have the same markings that mine do, only his markings are in black, the rest of his wings in white. I stroke his feathers gently upon this discovery, and his laughs fade. He calms, then falls asleep, laying his small head next to mine. After a few minutes of holding his sleeping form close to me, I lay him down in his crib and spin his mobile, making the penguins and polar bears dance a bit. Laying on his side much like the rest of us bird kids do, he kicks his legs out and puts half of his fist in his mouth. After staring at the male infant replica of myself for a moment, I move over to Aidan's crib. She's awake, and upon seeing my face, she babbles. I pick her up and, while distracting her by bouncing her, I take a look at her wings, which are black, just like her father's.

It's a moment before I realize I'm not the only one who notices this.

And then another moment before I can stop my mother from calling my grudge-holding boyfriend into the room.

Fang stalks in, giving me a look that says, 'Who disturbs my slumber?'. Menacing. Cold.

"I thought you might like to know that your daughter has inherited your wings," I say coldly, then bite my lip, wondering if what I have just said was uncalled for. But I'm relieved when he smiles at her and snaps out his wings to compare, nearly hitting my mother in the face with his wingtip. Aidan, seeing Daddy, babbles again and reaches for him. Fang walks over, wraps his arms around her and a little bit over mine, then wraps his big, black wings around the three of us.

"Maximus has my markings, but he chose a bit more color variety," I say, laughing and putting a sad end to our embrace. Fang walks over to look at the sleeping Maximus's wings, and Aidan whimpers, missing Fang. So I hand her to him, and she silences herself and snuggles into Fang's chest. Soon, she falls asleep.

"What about Kane?" Fang asks, voicing my thoughts exactly. My mother stands over Kane's crib, and her deep breaths show that she is enchanted by her grandson. Kane, the crazy one, has black wings as well, but unlike his sister, his wings, when shone in the light, are tinted a dark purple. My mother has a concerned look on her face, which confuses me.

"What's wrong, Mom?" I ask her, concerned at her worriedness.

"Don't let your father see his wings yet," my mother whispers. Her voice is nearly inaudible, even to Fang's and my extremely good hearing.

"Why?" Fang asks. Even he is concerned at this point. My mother takes a deep breath, and I realize with astonishment that my son will dig up a lot of emotional baggage on Jeb's part.

"Ari's wings were like that," she answers.