Description: Max's (dying?) thoughts, slightly Miggy (yeah I know... But it fit.) Don't cast this story off just because of the pairing. There is an explanation and a hint of could-have-been Fax.

The Fallen Angel

It had been a whole year. A whole year without White Coats, Erasers, Flyboys, or random villains trying to kill them. A whole year of life, freedom.

Funny, how it would come down to something like this.

It had been a great year. A year of laughter and peace, a year of life, happiness, a year of change.

Yes, Max could no longer deny that they weren't the same rampaging youngsters anymore. They had softened around the edges, allowing a sort of ignorant bliss into their lives. Yes, they were still paranoid beyond all normal realms of reason, but they no longer always looked over the shoulder when they went outside, or sat up all nights in shifts to keep the fear at bay.

So, yes, Max thought, it was a year of change, but it was also a year of love.

No one saw it coming, least of all themselves. Funny, how that doesn't seem to matter much to fate.

It started with a flirtatious comment, something not uncommon from Iggy. After all, he was a total sexist pig.

Then it was a joke here and there, a smile. Soon they were bickering the ears off each other… and those around them.

Fang left not long after that.

He was just gone one morning. A small note left. A single word.


And that was that.

She cried, and he was there, for her to lean on.

Things fell into a sort of rhythm after that. Their various enemies started disappearing, they were never in danger, never scared.

So they moved in with Dr. M and later, Jeb came too.

And for the first time in a long time, things slowed to a comfortable lull.

Slowly Max forgot her old life of running. And slowly, very slowly but surely, she managed to forget Fang too.

Dr. M was worried. Worried she'd become depressed, or maybe even suicidal. But Iggy wasn't worried, he knew she just needed time.

Iggy missed him too of course, but he didn't have the bond Max and Fang had shared. He wasn't hurt as deep.

But he still hurt, and Max saw it in his sightless eyes and blamed herself.

Then came the day she fell, hit her head.

She dreamed then, dreamed of Fang. Fang coming back, Fang never leaving, Fang telling her he loved her.

Then she woke up, and Fang wasn't there.

But Iggy was.

He'd been pacing around the room, leaning on the doorframe, pacing again. Constantly berating Dr. M about what was wrong, how Max was and when she was going to wake up, and where could he help. What, how, why, when, where, and when again.

Nudge had told her about. Angel had been with her, a annoyingly knowing smile on her face.

Those to partners in crime were going to be more trouble than they were worth.

Not that she had needed them to tell her.

She had known when she woke up. And he was standing there, tears in his eyes. She had said his name.

And he had kissed her, hard and gentle, fast and soft all at once.

And, as she slipped back into unconsciousness, Max's last thought centered on this moment. And how maybe, maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

And when she dreamt again, it was no longer of pain and sorrow, but a enduring bliss.

And in her sleep, Max smiled.