I understand, now. I understand what he felt all those long years ago. The heartbreak, the grief, the pain, the anger. I understand it now. He watched her die, he watched as my mother was slowly burned to death and he was helpless to stop it. I used to understand on basic principle alone, the mere thought of going through that enough to bind us together. But now, as I stand here in my rain soaked clothes, I realize that I am more like him now than ever before. Because now I understand. The flames still rage, though they are slowly diminishing in strength. Their heat will forever haunt my dreams, as will her pained screams as the fire slowly consumed her and I was held in place by an invisible arm. In that moment, I understood my father more than I ever thought I would.
It isn't until months later, when I look him in the eye, that the pain really hits. I see myself in him now, a pain from over two decades ago still fresh in his eyes, now reflected back at me.
"Oh, son," he whispers, and pulls me gently into a firm embrace. He draws me impossibly closer when the tears overpower me and the sobs break free. He says not a word as my knees give out and he carries my entire weight as though he was born to do so. His body is firm against mine, but I feel the trembling in his thick arms and the slight shake of his own massive shoulders. He is as broken as I am.
"I understand now," I tell him, my voice muffled against his shirtfront.
"I never wanted you to," he replies, his own voice husky with spent emotion.
I don't know how long we stood there, but when he finally deemed my legs secure enough to hold my own weight and his arms slowly released me, we were both exhausted. I asked if he'd stay with me and he quietly assented without hesitation.
My brother has always been my comfort, the one of the two of them to always understand, help, and reassure me. But he doesn't understand. Now that I do, I don't ever want him to. My father and I are broken, two husks of men that are only living for vengeance. My brother is still pure, he hasn't yet seen the fire. I hope he never has to.
And so I will fight beside a man who I grew up adoring and a man who now makes all too much sense.
I will fight for a brother who held me when the pain was still fresh and I felt little.
I will fight for a father who held me when the pain overcame me and I felt too much.
I will fight for the women we loved because we are all they have left.
So it's back to the life I left. Saving people. Hunting things. The family business.
I wouldn't have it any other way.