Starry Nights & Amber Dawns by Reona-chan

Category:Maximum Ride
Genre:Angst, Tragedy
Characters:Fang, Iggy
Published:2008-12-18 05:52:19
Updated:2008-12-18 05:52:19
Packaged:2021-04-04 15:30:01
Summary:Iggy is painting again, and it is almost time for his surgery. Fang watches. Slight Fang/Iggy slash! angst. songfic.

Starry Nights & Amber Dawns

Author's Notes: Oh my goodness.. I actually brought myself to write an angst. I was listening to Josh Groban while writing this.. and honestly, I cried, too. Please listen to 'Vincent (Starry Starry Night)' by Josh Groban while reading this to have a little bit of effect. That song is beautiful.

Fang/Iggy, obviously. I just love these two. Oh, and I guess this is AU. A little. Because Iggy doesn't –

All 'Vincent's here are replaced with 'Iggy's. So the thing will make sense..

WARNING: Angst follows – character death will occur.

Disclaimer: Maximum Ride belongs to James Patterson. Iggy belongs to Fang and vice-versa.


Starry, starry night

Paint your palette blue and grey

Look out on a summer's day

With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.


Once more, the boy is in his room in front of a canvas, brush strokes running along the material with a look of concentration on his face. Once more, he is using only those two colors – dark blue, and monotonous gray. He looks, out the window, a small smile on his face and turns back to face the intruder.

"What are you painting?" asks the dark-haired one of the two, wings folded on his back. The other boy smiles, and looks back at his artwork. "Outside," he says, gesturing to the window beside him. The dark-haired boy blinks, and stares at the painting with a similar look of concentration on his face.

"But it's not bright."

Iggy smiles and continues to paint.

"Neither are our hearts – we're experiments, remember?"

Fang breathes out some carbon dioxide, staring at the young boy and blinking. "But you're happy –"

Iggy cuts him off, continuing to paint.

"But you aren't."


Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land.


Iggy is still not finished with his painting.

Fang watches.

The brush moves almost like magic along the canvas, the boy is calm – and he still uses those two colors, blue and gray. It is fun, to watch Iggy paint, he takes time to put in the smallest details. He had once spent one day making a flower look just right, in blue and gray. Fang smiles and watches as Iggy hops off his stool to replace the paint.

"Why are you painting this so seriously?" asks Fang, when Iggy returns to his chair.

Iggy smiles again, that beautiful, calm smile that makes Fang's heart unconsciously skip a beat.

"Because I might not be able to paint ever again."


Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free.


Fang shuffles around in the room he and Iggy share (shared).

He finds an old brush and a palette, and uses his old shirt as a canvas. Taping it on the wall, he thinks about what he will draw. He purses his lips, and sighs.

The palette sends waves of nostalgia through his mind.

He thinks.


They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now.


Iggy is being forced to eat dinner, because he will not be allowed to eat twenty-four hours before the surgery.

"Please!" cries one of the whitecoats, Iggy raising his head to look at her with a look of annoyance. Fang blinks at the character change. He hates the whitecoats, too, but he does not change completely in front of them. Iggy becomes someone new altogether.

"No. Go away," he says, and continues on his painting.

The whitecoat groans in frustration, throws the plate on the ground, and stomps out.

Fang watches.


Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds and violet haze
Reflect in Iggy's eyes of china blue


Fang realizes what it is he wants to paint.

He picks two colors – amber and gold. He mixes different colors to make amber, and tries to make the yellow, gold, by mixing white in it. It looks more like mustard, but it is close enough.

Fang starts.


Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artists' loving hand.


Fang bites his lip in concentration.

He draws swirls here and there, and uses the two colors to create an effect. He is not the artist – it is Iggy who is (was) so, and he huffs in frustration when his hand starts trembling.

Fang reminisces.


Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now.


Iggy is almost done with his painting. A whitecoat walks in with a cage. Fang holds his breath. He is scared.

The whitecoat throws Iggy off his chair and into the cage, and Iggy cries out in pain when his back collides with the metallic bars.

"Iggy!" Fang cries out, scrambling to his feet and running to the cage. A whitecoat kicks him, and he screams when his body collides with the wall. He is stronger than Iggy, but he cannot fight. He is scared – and Iggy stares at him with his dark blue eyes.

"Please, Fang. Finish it for me. Fang, please," he says, and as Fang is about to reply he is taken out.

It is time for Iggy's surgery.

Fang paints while waiting for him.


For they could not love you
But still your love was true.


Iggy returns with bandages around his eyes. The whitecoat throws him back in the room, and Fang gasps and runs to him.

"Iggy!" he calls out, stopping in front of the boy and holding him, feeling his body tremble.

Iggy smiles, and leans into the hug, returning it.

"I'm alive," he says finally, and Fang sighs in relief. "I'm glad," says Fang, and he continues to hold Iggy tightly. He was scared for him.

Iggy rests his neck in the curve of Fang's neck and sighs into him.

Fang does not realize the bitter truth.


And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do..


Iggy stands up from his chair and looks at Fang with a smile. Fang smiles back, and Iggy stretches.

"I'll be going for a walk."

Fang stands up almost impulsively, and nods.

"I'll come with you."

Iggy shakes his head and looks at Fang with a soft smile. "It's dark, Fang. The whitecoats won't approve of you leaving in late hours," he says, always the sensible one. Fang frowns, and pouts.

"Come on, Iggy. Just now?"

Iggy's tone is surprisingly flat and ends the conversation.


A sound of gunfire happens soon after – and Fang's heart stops.



But I could have told you Iggy
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.


Fang finds himself crying the moment he is snapped back into reality.

He looks out the fields that Iggy looks (looked) out of those many months ago. He bites his lower lip.


The name repeats in his mind, over and over, a sacred mantra to be repeated again and again.

His mind is spinning.

He is drunk on memories.

"Iggy.." he sighs, turns his head back to the canvas. Iggy always says (said) that you paint freely, you paint your emotion – and not what you see.

"Why?" he asks after a long time, and he bites his lower lip even harder.

"You just.. couldn't handle it, could you?" he continues, pretending that the boy is there, the one who would kiss him through the nightmares, the one who remained calm despite his condition.

"Maybe.. it was just us who couldn't handle you," Fang concludes, and closes his eyes when he feels a ghost of arms wrap around him, and the air kisses his neck.

He continues his painting.


Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.


Fang runs to the field Iggy was in, and screams when he sees the dead body of his best friend (lover, Fang…) and he feels tears drip down the sides of his face.

He remembers when once they were allowed to look out the window of the School. They would see beggars, and Iggy would always open the door a peek to throw a coin or two out (stolen, of course).

And now, there lay the body of a Saint, one of innocence – one who suffered before his time.

A porcelain doll – tainted by blood and a wound to the chest.

"Iggy.." whispers the boy, falling to his knees.

It is December, and snowflakes fall from the sky.

Snow, it is pure and white.

Just like Iggy.

Just like Iggy was.


Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
They're not listening still
Perhaps they never will.


Fang finishes his painting and looks at it with slight satisfaction. Iggy will (would) be proud. He smiles, and stands from his stool, and walks to the window; watches it snow.

It is Iggy. He is saying hello.

Fang whispers his hello, as well.

He might be hallucinating – but a voice tells him to leave the School, to tell the world what they did to him.

Fang's fingertips lay on the window.

It's impossible, says the dark-haired one, and the snow falls harder.

It isn't, says his hallucination, and he smiles, looking down.

Maybe they'll listen this time.

But that also meant that they might not understand, either.

Fang whispers a soft I love you against the window, and he walks to his shirt, takes it off the wall and hangs it beside a painting of blue and gray.

The blue and gray one is named Starry, Starry Night. A silhouette of Fang is visible on the field.

The amber and gold one is named Dawn. Iggy is standing with a hole in his chest – and holding his arms out.

Fang closes his eyes.

"I'll see you soon, Iggy."