A/N: If I have to read one more story of the repercussions of what happened after Fang left, I will scream. It never should have happened.

This is my attempt to set things right, even if the writing is choppy and short and crappy.

-x-

How It Should Have Would Have Could Have Happened

-x-

It was a good idea; and then it wasn't.

The letter was folded in half and placed on the counter, Max's name scrawled across the top; his bag was packed with an extra pair of clothes and a box of peanut butter granola bars – he couldn't bring himself to steal money, but that was alright, he'd find a way to make due. The house was empty, silent, just him and his suddenly-not-so-steely-resolve.

Could he really do this?

And then – did he want to?

Of course not. Every fiber of his being was against this plan, this plan where he would spend the next 20 years of his life in solitude, but if it was good for Max –

If it was good for his Flock –

If it would save their lives (because, secretly, he didn't give a damn what happened to the world, as long as his Flock was okay, they were breathing, they were happy, free to soarflyglidelive) –

Then he could do it. But, even with the unwelcome addition of Dylan the Wonderkid, he didn't know for certain if this was smart, leaving his Flock. What if they got in trouble (and let's face it, with a track record like theirs, trouble was inevitable)? Whatifwhatifwhatif? What if he wasn't there when they needed him? Angel still got spooked by thunderstorms and Gazzy was only eight and Nudge needed reassurance and who else would Iggy bother into describing girls? and Max. Well. Max was Max.

Fang wasn't a sentimental, in-touch-with-his-emotions kind of guy. Quite the opposite. But –

He'd miss Angel growing up, miss the way she'd look up at you with her blueblue eyes and smile with unconditional love, even if things were a little rough right now, her smile reassured it's okay. One day we'll be okay.

He'd miss Gazzy (although his digestion problems he could do without) and his brand of eight year old humor, his sheepish grins – the kid was such a trooper with such spirit and did he really want to be responsible for breaking that?

He'd miss Nudge and her constant irrelevant stream of chatter, however much it might bug him at the time, the way she got excited over life's normalcy, her evil Bambi eyes of manipulation.

He'd miss Iggy and his frequent explosions (although using his only pair of shoes for a makeshift bomb was never going to be okay), his stupid wisecracking jokes, and dude, have you ever tried one of his tacos? He'd miss those too.

He'd miss Max the most.

(He didn't know how much she'd miss him – she'd have Dylan to cheer her up now, and the thought filled him with such revulsion he felt sick and angry and violent)

Was he willing to give this up? Give them up? Give up on them?

In one swift, decisive movement, Fang crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in his pocket. He'd unpack his bag later.

Right now? Right now his family needed him (or maybe it was the other way around).

(He also needed to stop using so many rhetorical questions, but that was a problem he'd tackle another day)