It wasn't like he was not grateful to see his father again. It was one of the best moments of the so many past years of his life. Meeting his father again. The father of a family he had never again expected to see. He loved his father, of course. All sons should be allowed to love their fathers, have fathers that deserved love. His father certainly did.
But Josh could not deny the space he felt between them. It was a cruel space, but it was one that had built up over the years and had been necessary to his survival when he was so sure he would never succeed again.
Now he had power.
Perhaps that was it. He was no longer the little boy he used to be. Time travel was cruel that way. But he had grown up seeing things no one from his time was meant to see. True evil in its darkest form.
He wanted to fight that evil.
They spoke, first the declarations of love and joy and then the awkwardness and then the full-on fights. They sickened him on the inside. He wished he knew how to end them.
Part of him thought that was his father's job. When they had last seen each other, Josh had been twelve. Twelve years old and thinking he was so smart and knew everything. He was immature as was to be expected. He was to learn and his father was to teach him.
But he wasn't a kid anymore. He was an adult. The arguments should have been adult fights. But they weren't. They were the arguments of a son and a father who no longer knew each other.
Marcos tried to help. Josh appreciated that. He liked how he saw Marcos now, no longer quite a hero, but a friend and an equal. That was better than any hero.
And maybe Josh's father sensed it. Marcos was cool, Marcos had gone through so much of the same experiences Josh had—the power that wasn't really power, the exposure to evil they couldn't help.
And there was something else, too. Becky. Becky who still remained as a ghost in Josh's heart. The little sister whom he had killed.
His father didn't need to know about that. He didn't need to know the truth.
Still, he wished he could just talk to him, the way he had when he was young.
But he wasn't that way.
Too many years had passed.