A/N: I debated whether to add this Epilogue to the story or not. I didn't know what the readers would think, and/or if it would add or detract from the previous chapter. If you think the previous chapter can't be improved upon and/or shouldn't have anything added to it, then don't continue reading. Otherwise, I hope you like this added bit.
Fifteen years later...
"Thanks for meeting me here."
"Yeah, no sweat, Coach." The boy was a straight-up physical meld of his mother and father. His mother's eyes and his father's agility. It was hard not to feel the angst looking at the kid, though it had gotten easier over time.
Chad Jr. was still gazing at the headstone. "I don't come here enough, to be honest…"
Troy shook his head. "No need to apologize. Between high school hours, homework, hoops practice, and helping your mother around the house, it's not like you got loads of free time."
The kid grinned in response. "Figured you got me covered anyhow, Coach."
He's got me there. "Yeah, I still come here a lot," and Troy Bolton felt no shame admitting that. "Got a lot of memories with him. A lot of water under the bridge with him and me, y'know?"
"Yeah, I dig…" The kid took his eyes away from the gravestone and set them on Troy. "So why here and why now?"
Got his directness from you, ol' buddy. "It occurred to me yesterday that you and I had, y'know, never sat down and talked about him. I mean, you've grown up hearing about him, you bear his name, you've been around people who knew him best all your life – I guess I just never thought to ask before now if there was anything else you want to know about him. You're fifteen now, and you have the right to know whatever you want to know about Chad Sr."
Chad Jr. did not say anything immediately. "As you said, Coach, I grew up hearing all about him," and the kid's eyes went back to the grave that covered his namesake.
"Anything you want to say about him? Any questions I can answer?" Troy had no intention of badgering the kid, but was not going to let the son of his late best friend go through life feeling like he did not have another man to talk to.
"Naw, not really." Chad Jr. reached out, flicked some dirt off the top of his father's headstone. Then he opened up. "It's hard sometimes to separate fact from fiction, y'know, when you grow up in the shadow of someone else. Mom doesn't say anything bad about him, only talks about the good stuff. Not that it's a bad thing; she has every right to remember him the way she wants." Troy nodded, just listening, glad the kid was opening up. "I guess I wish I had known him myself, y'know? Wish I could make my own judgment of him instead of going by everyone else's memories."
Troy nodded. "I wish that too. So would he," and he motioned toward the gravestone, "if he'd had the choice."
The kid nodded as well. "I guess I should ask you first, then, if I have any questions about him. That's what Mom says. She says you knew him better than anyone else did, including her."
Troy smiled. You're probably right, Tay. The kid went on. "I've asked Zeke a couple times about him, and he's told me a couple things. You were all the same age in high school, right?" Troy nodded. "That's what he said. He's got some hilarious stories."
"Zeke didn't tell you about what we all did the night before graduation, did he?"
Chad Jr. looked up at him. "No, why?"
"Good."
The kid waited for him to go on with a sly grin. "Do tell, Coach…"
Troy shook his head and laughed quietly "Maybe later. How is Zeke, anyhow? Haven't seen him around lately."
The boy grinned. "Probably 'cause Mom has him doing all the cooking now. That, and he's busy at the bakery."
"The life of a Michelin winner, I suppose." Out of all the students at East High, Zeke Baylor had been the last person anyone would have suspected of becoming a renowned baker, but by golly if he had not pulled it off. In the years after Taylor and Chad Jr. had relocated back to Albuquerque in the aftermath of the tragedy in Coeur d'Alene, she and Zeke had reconnected. What had started out as a high school friendship back in the day slowly blossomed into something more once she felt ready to move on after Chad's death. It had been just over two years since the widow of Chad Danforth became Mrs. Zeke Baylor, and Troy was very glad indeed to see Zeke doing his utmost to make her (and her son) happy.
"Zeke says the same thing she does, that you and my Dad were tight," the kid said, pulling Troy's thoughts back to the here and now. "Same with Principal Evans. They both say you're the man to talk to if I want to know more about who he really was and what he was really like."
Troy had never thought Sharpay's former lapdog would ever be a successful Principal, but Ryan Evans had proven himself worthy of the task. Troy even enjoyed working under him as the head coach of the basketball team, which surprised him even more. "Yeah, they're probably right…" he heard himself say.
Chad Jr. was still looking at him. "So why now."
"Say again?"
The boy shrugged. "You never asked me to meet you here before and talk about him. Why now?"
Troy sighed. "As I said before, you're fifteen and have a right to know anything you want about your father. Your Mom, Zeke, and Principal Evans are all right – I did know him better than anyone else, and vice versa. He knew me inside and out, and I knew him the same way. Heck, we could finish each other's sentences half the time. He could look at me during class in high school, see the look in my eyes, and know what I was thinking almost perfectly. During a game, here and at Notre Dame, I could just nod at him, and he knew where I wanted him to go on the court. There were times I would pass him the ball without even looking to see if he was there, because I knew he would be. In practice, I would shoot a jump 3-ball, and he would tell me if I made it or not before my feet hit the ground again, and he'd usually be right." He was starting to ramble now, and he knew it – but the kid needed to hear this. "All those late nights studying algebra, geography, or scheme strategy for the next game together until the early hours of the morning, it just added to our bond." He rested his eyes on his best friend's son, could tell the kid was paying full attention. "I don't really know how to describe a friend like that, Junior, I really don't. But your father…..he meant the world to me, and I wish almost every day that it had been me that died up in Coeur d'Alene instead of him."
The kid winced. "Don't say that, Coach…"
"Maybe I shouldn't, but it's the truth." Troy's eyes once again fell on the headstone that bore his friend's name. "You want to know why I never asked if you wanted to talk about him before now?"
Chad Jr. looked up at him again. "Yeah, I guess so."
"Because it hurts to remember." He could see, in his mind's eye, the light going out of Chad's eyes once again, could hear the mocking laughter of the White Power men who would soon die by his hand. "Not just the bad stuff, it's the good memories that hurt the worst. I can remember clear as day how vibrant and full of life he was, and I never expected that at the age of thirty-seven I'd be standing here at his grave fifteen years after he was killed." He had tears coming down that chiseled Bolton face of his, but his voice never wavered. He reached out, pulled the kid into an embrace with one hand while resting the other on Chad's headstone. "What gets me even more is watching the mature, responsible young man his son is growing up to be, watching him pass all his classes while being a terror to opposing teams on the court," and he felt the kid chuckle at that, "and wishing he could be here to see it all." He released the boy, but the kid kept his eyes on him. "They're all right, all of them – I did know your father the best, out of all of us. And I can tell you that the reason you only hear the good about Chad Danforth, Sr. is because there was hardly any bad about him."
They were both silent for a long time – one of them taking in new information about the father he never knew and whose name he bore, and the other remembering good times with his closest friend. It was the kid who broke the silence. "You really loved him, didn't you?"
Troy did not respond immediately. "Yeah," he said finally, his voice just above a whisper. "I really did."
Minutes passed, but it was a meaningful time for both of them. "Speaking of homework, Coach, I got to finish mine tonight," the kid said, somewhat regretfully. "Any chance I could get a ride home?"
"Yeah, for sure, Junior." Troy fished in his pocket, pulled out his keys. "Let yourself in, I'll be there in a minute."
"Thanks Coach." The boy started off, then came to a halt. "And Coach? Thanks for this, truly."
Troy smiled, gave him a quick thumbs-up. "I'm always here to talk, buddy, you know that." The kid nodded, then continued on his way.
Troy remained at the gravesite for a time, staring down at the plot of ground that contained the remains of the best friend he had ever had. At long last, he broke the silence. "I loved you, man," he said quietly. "I know you knew that. I hope you never doubted it." A car horn broke the silence of the cemetery, and he knew he had to get Chad Jr. home, also knew Gabriella would be wondering why he was not home yet himself – and so he pulled himself away, knowing he would be back at this spot before too long.
Rest in peace, ol' pal. I got your son's back, the same way you had mine.
A/N: RANDOM THOUGHTS FROM A RANDOM MIND: If we as a society could stop sexualizing everything, then maybe we could see the incredibly close bonds of friendship and loyalty that can run deep between men (especially young men) and appreciate the beauty in that.
