The Last Flight (A Maximum Ride fanfiction)

TLF Chapter 11.

Max woke up early, but seeing as how she went to bed at four a.m. and got back up at seven 'early' was a relative term. Doctor Martinez was downstairs cooking breakfast when Max stumbled down the steps scratching her right wing sleepily.

"Morning, Max ... Did you sleep well?"

She shook her head, "No ... I have to leave for a few days, something's come up and we have to go sort it out ... You don't mind having a few more of us around do you?"

"Well, that is definitely a new way to say 'good morning'. Would you mind telling me what's going on?" She put a plate heaped with fresh pancakes before Max and turned back to the stove to fry more.

"Fang got a letter from his dad."

The spatula hit the floor.

Max looked up and mumbled 'what' around a mouthful of pancakes.

"He found his dad? That's wonderful!"

Max sighed and swallowed, "Its really complicated. You see-"

A hand appeared right next to her face, a hand clutching a slightly wrinkled letter.

"You should read it," Fang put a hand on the back of Max's chair.

How is he so quiet? It's like he's nothing but a shadow sometimes! Max scowled up at Fang then turned to her mother. Her eyebrows drew down as she skimmed down the page. Her long, fingers curled slightly and her big brown eyes, so much like Max's turned to the dark haired young man before her. "I see.

"You've been going into town every day for the past month hoping that this would be there?"

"Yeah ... Only I thought it would be different somehow ... I don't know," He sat in the chair next to Max and hung his head. He looked exhausted.

The woman seemed to have an intense struggle within herself but after a moment she let out a long, deep sigh. "I want a phone call when you find them ... And please, PLEASE, take care of yourselves."

Max smiled and lunged across the table to hug her mother.

They had opted to leave just after lunch, which allowed Max a few more hours sleep before they had to fly all the way to Montana. Flying from Arizona to Montana wasn't such a big deal. Not when Max, Angel, Nudge and Total had flown across France.

Fang on the other hand hadn't slept much at all and his wing was still incredibly sore. The muscles tight and aching where the stick had torn through his skin. Part of him kept wishing he were back at the Martinez house dozing in his bed, or at least had a few of the miraculous pain-pills he'd been given.

At breakfast he had made Max tell the Flock about the letter and about his family. Simply because he didn't think he could speak of his father just yet. It had taken him a long time the night before to accept the fact his dad was most likely dead. Killed by whoever had been in the room with him.

Before they'd left Fang had seen Max searching the house. He'd asked her what she was looking for but part of him had known.

She was looking for Jeb and Jeb wasn't there. Fang had seen the man rush from the house late the night before pulling on a jacket as he went. He'd jumped into his car and sped off cell phone to his ear. Mumbling, "I got it, I got it, just have the airstrip ready when I get there ... Jesus, I can't believe they found him ... No, no, I'm OK, I'll handle it, just don't touch ANYTHING."

At first Fang had thought, good riddance, but then something had started to bother him. Why had Jeb gone so suddenly? And why did he take only his phone and wallet with him? Jeb's familiar smelling clothes were left in the guestroom closet, as was his laptop computer forgotten on his desk.