Not Hers, Anymore by Ashily

Category:Maximum Ride
Genre:Angst, Tragedy
Published:2006-06-15 10:29:24
Updated:2006-06-15 10:29:24
Packaged:2021-05-07 02:23:45
Summary:Fang and Max's failed marriage hits a low point, and when Fang tries to escape, he finds solace in an old friend. [Implied FangIggy, Onesided MaxFang, OneShot, AU. PROLOGUE TO GETTING BETTER.]

Not Hers, Anymore

Title: Not Hers, Anymore

Author: Mercy Me It's Ashley


Rating: PG13 for implied homosexual/bisexual relations, language, and suicidal thoughts.

Pairing: Iggy/Fang, implied slash, and one-sided Fang/Max

WARNING: Yes, two males are going to engage in romantic activities. You have been forewarned. Any anti-slash flamers will be met with my personal wrath.

Disclaimer: MaxRide is James Patterson's, but I have temporarily clubbed him over the head and stolen the characters for my own amusement. Just don't tell anyone, okay?

AU: Ten years after SOF.

Not Hers, Anymore

I realize now I've made a mistake, a very, very grave mistake in acting as I did five years ago. I was blind, I couldn't see the problems that scream out so clearly now; and how they scream, with anger, with passion, hatred and venom. Dammit, why did I do such a stupid thing?

Five years ago, to the day, I asked Maximum Ride on a date. We went to the movies, I held her hand, I kissed her cheek, and it felt awkward and wrong. It wasn't something I wanted, but something I felt that had to be done. Why remains a mystery, but I wish I never had.

One week later, I proposed to her.

I had no ring, only the hope that she'd say yes. To be honest, I think I was afraid, that I'd never find anyone and she'd go off and get married and leave me alone. So I saw one option, claim her as my own before I could find myself living in a one-bedroom apartment with an old cat and an ever on television, to fill up the silence.

To my surprise, and my horror, she said yes.

Two days later, I booked three tickets for Vegas. One for me, one for her, and one for Iggy. Angel had gotten married a year earlier, and had no interest in bringing her husband and infant sons to Las Vegas, and Gazzy had drifted away since our childhood. I haven't spoken to him in months, though I hear word from Angel, who he keeps in contact with, he plans to marry a southern belle.

We don't talk about what happened to Nudge.

Plus, someone had to give away the bride.

Within two hours of landing, we'd made our way to the Little White Wedding Chapel, with Iggy acting as flower girl, ring bearer, father to the bride and best man. We dressed in blue jeans and sweatshirts, though Max had brought along a cheap veil from a dollar store that she'd picked up along the way.

And I married her, right then and there, in a foreign city, with Iggy at my side.

Things have never been the same.

Max gave up journaling after having it out with her editor, she teaches fourth graders now. She says she likes the kids, but sometimes she looks over her old articles with a box of Kleenex at her side. I don't know what happened between them, but ever since then everything's been my fault.

I tried to sign up for the armed forces, but only a week before I was due to start my training I got in an auto accident. Piece of glass tore straight into my heart. No government in their right mind would hire a soldier with a heart condition like that.

I've become a paper pusher now, and I hate it.

I hate Max too. If she hadn't married me, none of this would have happened. Damn her.

I haven't said more than a word to her in the past three days. I think she's starting to hate me. But that's okay, I already hate her. Except I'm trying not to, at least until the holidays are over. It's Christmas after all. Good will towards men. Women. Mutant. Whatever.

Iggy usually comes for the holidays, because if he doesn't I drink and Max cries.

But his band's playing in Chicago.

I miss him already.

Damn band.

Ever since he joined it, his phone calls have been less and less, shorter and shorter. I miss talking to him everyday, it kept me happy, and Max busy. I want to scream every time he hangs up, I always have something else to say.

Maybe he just doesn't want to listen.

But I'll show him, I don't need him. Max and I will celebrate Christmas, and I won't drink until after five, like a normal person, and Max won't cry. Unless we watch a sad movie or something. And if she does I'll kiss her cheek and hold her hand, like I'm suppose to. I'm her damn husband after all.

For breakfast, I make her waffles and hand her a small wrapped box. She opens it, and I think she's happy, cause inside is a white-gold bracelet with all sorts of clinking charms. I tell her I'll let her pick out some more later.

She says that'd be just fine.

We rent a movie, a comedy this time. No one cries.

We skip lunch, and instead she goes upstairs to get ready for dinner. She smiles. I think maybe our marriage will work out after all.

I call Iggy, he picks up on the fifth ring. I ask him how he's doing, he says he'll talk to me later. He hangs up, and I bite my lip. I don't need him, I don't even know why I called him. I have my wife. We're married. I can spend the holidays with my wife if I want to.

When she comes down, she's wearing a nice dress. It's black, and she sparkles with diamonds. She asks how she looks.

I tell her she looks wonderful.

I don't really care though. We're eating dinner in our own house, no one else is here. We've been married for five damn years, and I've known her longer. It's not like she's impressing me.

But as she kisses my cheek, I change my mind.

I ask her if she wants me to help.

She says I can if I want.

I don't want to, but I do anyways.

She cooks the turkey, and I try to stay out of the way. We work at it for an hour before she lets me set the table with our best china plates. The ones Angel sent us after we got married. I set both places, and I put a vase of flowers in the middle. It looks romantic, like we really do love each other after all. I may love her yet.

As she steps into the room, she smiles, but then she frowns.

I ask her what's wrong, and she shakes her head.

She says there should be more places.

I ask her what she means, and she shakes her head again. Curls bouncing around, she looks like a little girl.

She asks why we don't have kids, and I want to scream. I don't want kids, Angel's kids are fucked up for life. Half-mutant, half-human, they're a mess. Their wings don't work, and their growth is all over the place. Oversized hands, and tiny arms. It's unnatural. The doctors are putting them through genetic therapy, they may even look normal by the time they're adults. In the mean time, they go through hell.

And anyways, we're not parents. We don't pretend to be, why should we start now?

I tell her I don't want kids. She says I'm insensitive.

I say it'd be cruel to bring kids into the world, and she pleads with me that they won't be like Angel's kids. They'll be full mutant.

I ask her how that's so much better.

She starts to cry, and I grit my teeth and grab a beer. It's 5:01.

As I run up the stairs, I want to grab the phone and dial Iggy's number. But he said he'd talk to me later, and he's with his band. I don't need him anyways. I also want to lock myself in our bedroom, but I can't. She'll find me. Instead, I throw myself into the bathroom and lock the door tightly behind me.

I don't need Iggy, and Max can't tell me what to do. She can't control my life. If I don't want kids, I won't have them. I take a sip of my beer.

I won't. She can't make me.

I take another drink, a longer one. Stupid Max. I shouldn't have married her in the first place.

Beer runs down my throat again, and I still hate her. I hate her more than ever before.

She can't control me.

I'm not her property.

I take another drink, and I realize the window's open, blowing snow into my hair.

Damn window.

I go to close it, but then I realize, this is my escape. I have wings. I can fly out that window, and Max will never see me again, I'll fly to Iggy in- No, I won't. I don't need him. I'll fly to LA, and I'll become a Hollywood stuntman. Like Gazzy used to say he'd become. He never got to chase his dream, so I'll chase it for him.

Yes, that's it. I'll never see them again. I'll change my name, I'll remove my damn wings if I have to, but the only time they'll ever see my face again is on the silver screen.

And they'll be sorry. They'll be real sorry.

For once, I'm glad Max got a country home, no one sees me as I climb out the window and onto the roof. Max doesn't even hear my footsteps over her head, she's so absorbed in her own problems. She needs to get her head out of her ass long enough to see what's in front of her.

Angel's got her own family, Gazzy hardly even speaks to us, Iggy's got a band, and Nudge is no more. All she has is me. And I'm about to be gone.

She'll be sorry.

I stand at the edge of the roof, and I tell myself this is easy. All I have to do is lean forward and jump, spread my wings and fly.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I don't know why I'm so scared, but I am. I tell myself how I used to do this all the time, and now it's no different. Finally, I'm just sick of thinking it over. And I jump.

I don't even lean forward, I just jump. She'll be sorry.

I fall, but I don't fly.

Cause I realize I don't want to fly anymore, falling is just as fun...

Max says she doesn't know what happened.

She's a liar.

A damn liar. A sorry, damn liar. I hate her.

She's outside, talking to a doctor. I can hear them, even if the doctor is talking quietly, like he's suppose to, Max is almost screaming. Stupid Max. She knows. And she's not even sorry.

There was a sudden, empty pain in my chest. I think it was my heart breaking, but I can't be sure.

I was all set to scream, or cry, choke or just die, but then I saw him. Leaning back in his chair, with his face tilted pleasantly up towards the lights, Iggy. A small noise comes out of my throat, mean to say, why aren't you in Chicago, but it comes out more like, eh.

Iggy's head snaps down, his eyes blinking rapidly. He says Max'll be in in a minute.

I turn away.

He says he's sorry.

I cough.

He whispers something in my ear that's so soft, I can't even hear him. I want to tell him to speak up, that we all don't have perfect hearing, but my mouth has suddenly gone dry, and my tongue won't even move.

He holds my hand, he kisses my cheek.

And I feel better than I have in years.


This will probably end up as the prologue to a series, slash of course, though with shorter chapters. I will let it stand on it's own though. Because if not, this was a damn good chapter.