Summary: Some questions better stay unanswered. Fang still isn't sure whether he has made the right decision. OneShot.

Warning: -

Set: Immediately post-"Fang"

The comment was anonymous and didn't give any hint as to who had sent it.

Fang stared at his laptop, the one he had bought in a second-hand-store somewhere on his trip and that was one of his only possessions.

"What are you thinking about?" It read.

Comment No. 436 for his last entry. The one explaining he left the flock. The one calling on all mutants to contact him.

He was leaning against the raw bark of an old oak – or at least he thought it was an oak, he never had been into trees and nature. It supported him, it held him safe and he had a good view over his surroundings. That was all he needed.

He felt empty and numb. Not unusual these days.

What are you thinking about?

The truth was, he wasn't thinking too clearly at the moment. He had known where to go when he left the flock, he had thought over it again and again, had agonized over the decision until he couldn't find another argument for or against it. He just knew the following:

If he was the first to die, he was in danger, and if he was in danger, the flock was, too.

If the flock was in danger, Max was in danger.

If Max lived, the world lived. If Max was dead, there was no sense for him in being alive. No matter where the world would go then.

Which meant: If he left, he wouldn't endanger Max as much, which meant she would survive, which meant he had a reason to stay alive no matter if he was with her or not.

He had felt pretty angry with Dylan for having reached the same conclusion way earlier than he had. He had to give him credit for that – Mr. Perfect really only cared about keeping Max safe. Maybe they weren't as different as he had thought… And he definitely shouldn't keep calling him Mr. Perfect. What was it with Max that she never was able to find actually insulting nicknames? Red-Haired Wonder. Dr. Amazing. Dr. Scary. Mr. Perfect. Way to go, Max.

He was getting distracted.

There had to be a way to help Max, even if it was impossible to be with her. What could he do? If they each really had a mission to accomplish – small, insignificant missions which together, added up, would allow Max to save the world – then he hadn't pursued his yet. It was time he got started with it.

He had wondered what had happened to those mutants whom they had freed from the Itex Corporation labs a few months before – he'd start in trying to track them down, teach them to hide and fight and stuff like that. Maybe he'd be able to find a way to help Max by doing that. He'd go and find the girl and her merry band of mutants and then he'd see what came next.

Which was pretty much everything he had been thinking about until he left.

What are you thinking about?

If he tried to figure out what he was thinking about right now, he'd just end up tired and sad and unable to sleep, sized with the painful urge to launch himself into the air and head back. Back to where he had come from. If he tried to figure out what he was thinking about, he'd start to remember the sound of Nudge's everlasting chatting, the feeling of Angel's little hand in his and Gazzy's grin whenever he managed to rig something right under Max's nose. He'd remember the taste of Iggy's chocolate chip cookies and the laughter that filled the room when the whole flock was together – the laughter and the shouts and the sound of Max's angry voice, telling them to shut up. The smell of her hair, when she was fresh out of the shower, the determination in her shoulders when she tensed for a fight, her dark profile when she watched over the flock at night, the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, the light in her eyes.

The feeling of her lips…

Fang shut his eyes and forced back the memories.

He couldn't. He had something to do. He had someone to protect. He wasn't allowed thinking about anything else right now.

He shut down the laptop. The comment remained unanswered.