Perhaps it would be wisest to compare what Max felt to something more common in the eyes of man.

  What Preston Wes Hunter was to Max, was a father.

  And, as every child or rather every human may know, a father figure is a necessary part of any childs growth.

  This statement rings true for any culture, society and even race irregardless of their place in the world.

  Be it a child in Africa or Asia.

  It is a well known fact.

  A child without a father figure is, simply put, "missing something."

  Almost as though there is some sort of piece in this person's heart that was meant to be filled.

  Almost as though, perhaps in deeper terms, that every child is born with this "hole" and that only a father can fill this hole.

  And what is a father to a household, one may ask.

  The answers to this question vary widely, but oddly enough, have more in common with one another than one may think in a more surface level view.

  A father, is the head of the house, the leader, the judge, the priest, the one who bestows his children with purpose, and so many others

  Of course, there is also the role that can be defined as "being present to your children," but thats besides the point.

  By dying, sure, Max's father was no longer around, but what he did...

  He told his son that Hunters always stand up to adversity, and by doing that which he did.. he inadvertedly did what every father should do. Teach their children the way.

  In a sense, Preston Wes Hunter had fully fulfilled his role as a leader, a judge, perhaps even a priest and also, he is the one who bestowed his son with purpose.

  So, that "hole" had been filled.

  Maximillian Hunter had full faith in his father's words.

  Never surrender.

  And so, like an empty room that needs filling, his heart was then and there filled with something. Something only a father could give him. Something only his son, Max could understand.

  Not just the message, but how it was stated to him.

  From a father, to a son. This is how you live your life.

  And not just saying it, but also doing it.

  In all that, Preston Wes Hunter, had fully fulfilled his role as a father.

  And as for Max, well...

  Max: And he stopped him.

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  He almost chuckled, but then continued...

  Max: My dad was... no... is a hero.

  He lowered his head again, not so much so that they couldn't see it, but rather... just enough that they could see his face.

  Max: He stood up for what was right even though he knew it wasn't gonna be easy. And he fought him to the bitter end, even though he knew how hard it would be, even though he knew he probably wouldn't make it.

  Rose: Max....

  She was horrified that he was saying that so freely. They all were.

  Just what had gotten into him?

  Max: But... I'm not really upset about all that.

  All of their minds, in unison, went... "What?"

  Max: I know he's gone... but... I....

  The next words were more difficult for him to pronounciate.

  Max: I'm.... I'm glad I got to be his son. I'm... just y'know....

  They all understood. He meant to say, he was proud of his father.

  Sad he was gone, to be sure. But proud of the way he did leave. And also, proud of what he did.

  Ken: (thinking: Max...)

  And with that...

  Max: Yeah.... so, don't worry about me, guys. I'll be fine...

  And with a light chuckle, continued...

  Max: After all, ...

  And he looked at his mother, who was looking back at him.

  Max: ... I'm a Hunter.

  And with that, his mother's own thoughts paused.

  What had her son been doing this whole time? What had he just said? Those were the questions that were previously wreaking havoc on her mind.

  But now, this was her thought.

  Just who was her son?

  In all her thoughts about him, she'd never imagined he could handle such a sensitive conversation.

  On top of that, since when did he get over it enough to talk about it like that.

  And as if that wasn't enough...

  Having heard all Max had to say, all the teens were obviously still troubled. Silent, but troubled.

  To a degree, they understood. Each, in their own way.

  His father died to protect others. How could he not be proud?

  Any child who'd learned about their father dying to protect, to serve, to die in the line of duty, to die standing up for what he believed in...

  Any child would be proud of such a father, irregardless of whether it was lives, beliefs or even a simple job or perhaps a personal rule or maybe even in defiance of an oppressive force.

  That fight... that innate fighting spirit.... that was what Maximillian Hunter and also, what any normal child would be proud of.

  The ability to stand up and fight.

  Tiffany: (thinking: So that's why... is that... why Max is like this?)

  He'd never before mentioned it, but to be fair, they'd only known him for a week.

  Max: So... don't worry about it. I'm fine.

  He stretched his arms behind his back in a somewhat relaxed manner.

  And at that point, Rose suddenly jumped the gun. There was one thing that stuck to her the entire time.

  Rose: (wincing and sobbing) But Max! It... it....

  They all innately knew what she wanted to say. It wasn't about his father.

  It was about him. She wanted to tell him not to blame himself for what had happened, as that, after all, was still a pressing question

  But Max...

  Max: I know, Rose. I know....

  He turned to the sobbing girl with a gentle smile, as if to disarm her, as if to tell her he would be fine.

  It wasn't like the thought had not bothered Max before, and it wasn't like it didn't still bother him every once in a while.

  But... it would bother anyone.

  And perhaps that was just the way it was.

  Sometimes... it just hurts. And sometimes, you have to get over it. And sometimes, perhaps, you just need time.

  It bothered Max a lot less than it usually did. And so, he felt no need to get into that.

  Perhaps, that was the way it needed to be.

  Tiffany, Luke and Ken all understood.

  It wasn't a... it no longer bothers me. It was a... its ok, I'll get over it.

  After all, which child wouldn't eventually question the validity of their existence in the face of such an occurence.

  His father died to protect him.

  So, was he responsible for his death? In a sense, one could say so.

  And perhaps, that would continue to haunt him. But, someday... it would eventually stop. After all, he was better that day, than he was when hed died.

  Much better, in fact.

  After all, like they all said. He was just a child.

  Julianne Hunter looked at her son with an odd sense of pride.

  As if that wasn't enough, her son had gotten over that too.