I'm here, sir, I'm here.
You don't have to be afraid; it will be all right. Just hold my hand, like you use to when you were a boy.
Do you remember how your mother used to hold your hand until you fell asleep? It would prevent your nightmares, your childish nightmares, full of imaginary monsters and unrealistic dangerous. You dreamed children dreams, sir, when you were young and happy.
One night you left with your parents as a boy; it was morning already when you returned, no longer a child - you were broken and lost.
To this day I can't decide if I failed you or helped you. I recall again and again all the times I could have stopped you, all the many occasions in which I could have put an end into your obsession. Should I have done something different? Should I have imposed myself, should I have taken choices for you?
Still, you were so driven and focused. You were so brave and talented. You were, in such an early age, such a good person.
It didn't seem right to interfere.
However, I think about your father, and about the reasons he had to make me your guardian. I knew Thomas Wayne; I knew the kind of man he was, and what kind of man he wished you to become: a happy man.
Did your parents death ruined forever all chances of happiness you had in your life?
Or did I?
If I had said no to your search, if I had encouraged other interests or a different quest... could I have changed the course of your life? Could anyone? Or that man and his gun were the ones that traced your destiny, so long ago, in the filthy street of a dark alley?
Here, hold my hand. I will not allow you to suffer any pain.
After the tragedy, you had the most terrible nightmares. You cried alone in your room, and rarely would let me in. You grew silent and reserved. You would think, but you would never speak. Oh, I know you though this was strength; and I know I never told you otherwise. As a child, you probably thought you would only be strong if you could take it all by yourself.
I gave you education, I kept you company as your servant and as your friend. I promised myself I would never leave you, for, as exceptionally smart and prepared you were, you were still a man. You were flesh and blood, even though I sometimes wondered if you knew it yourself.
When your parents died, I wanted to make sure you wouldn't forget them. I didn't want to replace them, and I never intended you to see me as your father. Perhaps that was my mistake?
Perhaps, if I had been more like a father, you wouldn't feel the urge to pursue what could never be achieved: a way to fill the emptiness left by that loss.
It doesn't matter anymore, does it?
And now, don't be afraid. Do not fear what you don't know, for this is the destiny we all share. Close your eyes, and you will see your mother and father reaching out for you. They wait, they have waited for so long, and so have you. They know, they know it: you have done well, and they are so proud of you.
Just go to them.
Go.
Farewell, my son. Farewell.
"The Funeral" belongs to AliaAtreidesBr and is used with permission.
