Before us...

Chapter Three

Milo had fought in a war, had been crippled by the relentless feeling of guilt over the death of his best friend and he had to tell his father at the age of seven that he had been the one who had broken the computer in his office which held every important document his Father needed to run his company. A few of his friends had wanted to show him some video that they had found hilarious on some website he could not remember the name of and with the excitement only a seven year old could possess, he had climbed up onto the tall desk chair, onto the edge of the overbearing mahogany work station and knocked straight into the glass screen which had toppled to the ground.

And yet, Milo had never been more apprehensive or afraid then he was at this moment. The two men had not spoken in years, since he left for the army. Not a single letter had passed between the two. In fact, the only knowledge Milo had of his Father's day to day life over the past few years he received from his Mother, but even those letters were riddled with the disappointment his family held towards him and what they believed to be his running away from all they handed to him over the course of his twenty-eight years of life.

The driver of the vehicle exited the car and made his way towards Milo as he stood awkwardly at the entrance of the airport, not appreciating the stares he was receiving from his fellow travellers. His time in the army had changed him and his broad stature along with his height and recent injuries seemed to intimidate those around him.

"Sir? Might I take your bag?" the Driver asked cautiously. He assumed his Father had informed him of who he was.

Silently, he handed over his standard issue duffel and cautiously made his way to the back of the car where his Father was waiting for him. In a way he was glad to be inside a car with blacked out windows to avoid the uncomfortable looks of outsiders.

Sliding in, he closed the door behind him trapping himself he felt, with a man who he was most anxious to meet. Honestly, they had never been close. From a young age he had favoured his mother despite her lack of involvement in his life, often opting to leave him with whichever nanny or maid they had hired that month. She had her moments of maternal love though.

His Mother, Rose, had once pulled him out of school early one Wednesday when he was in the Third grade and had surprised him with a trip to Central Park Zoo, where she let him stare at the penguins for what felt like hours, feed the seals and allowed him to get dangerously close to the Tiger enclosure before whisking him off to the gift shop and buying him all kinds of stuffed animals and toys which replicated the amazing animals he had just seen. It was the best day of his life, if he truly thought about it. The next day she was back to acting like he did not exist, going so far as to yell at him for letting her take him away from his education.

No, he never had moments like that with the man sat two seats away from him currently with his face buried in a newspaper. No, Walter King was only interested in his son when there was an opportunity to force his future career at the company down his throat or to berate him for something he had failed at. He was grounded for a month and received a slap across the face when he broke the computer.

But Milo felt there was nothing worse than his silence. He knew he had no interest in what he was 'reading' as he often stated that he preferred to get his news from the sources themselves, not the twisted words of journalists with a desire for drama.

The car gracefully pulled forward, easing them further away from the plane Milo wished he was still on and towards the City which he truly had not missed. New York used to be his favourite place in the world. But that was when he had James to explore it with and now it did not look like it once had. There were too many people, too many sounds and smells and too many lights that he knew would keep him awake at night, although that might be better than the relentless memories of the battles and death's he had witnessed both before and after he left the City that harassed him in his sleep nightly.