It was a lovely day out.
Late summer. The sun had just rose over the horizon, warming the ground- not to an uncomfortable temperature, either. Dew still glimmered on the dark green grass, and the leaves on the trees listed lazily.
No, God did not take into account that a funeral was taking place today. Or maybe He had- it would definitely have been harder on everyone if it was raining.
Bleak, dark clouds in the sky? Storming rain? At his funeral?! Scott himself surely would have shaken his head at the cliché. Maybe this nice weather was a last gift for him.
He'd certainly earned it, William thought, quietly observing the ceremony from a distance. People were looking for him- people who knew what he'd done, or at least had severely accurate suspicions. People who had the power to take him down. He wasn't safe out in the open like this... indeed, he was planning to leave the state that very day. A life on the run meant constant travel, but his godson deserved more than just a passing- by.
He'd deserved the world.
From William's vantage point in the background, he could see everyone coming and going. So many people this man had touched- just being at the far back of this funeral, outside and in the tree line, was dangerous. But I owe you far more than this, Scott. Far more. He'd seen Henry duck in here earlier, worn and tired from all of those years of keeping William in check. As a former friend as well as a father, he truly felt for him... Indeed, he knew far too well how it tore, knowing that you've lost your child from your own creation.
Michael now walked along the cemetery, looking at everything like he wanted to capture it all, but forget it, all at once. Not for the first time, his son looked lost and confused, for once in something besides his work uniform. Button up shirt, brown slacks, dress shoes. He'd trimmed, and had attempted to tame his hair, half of it falling over his face to cover a fresh scar. There was no point. William's was just as bushy, and he'd had to dye it back to brown last year. The crisp violet hue stood out far too much.
It again struck him just how much the two of them looked alike, though they'd looked a lot like each other for twelve years now. That they'd always look alike now, because neither of them would age anymore... God. For the rest of William's life, anytime he'd look at his oldest son, he would always see him reflected back, and again be reminded that it was his fault that Michael had turned out like this.
Not like that was a severely depressing thought on an already emotionally draining day, or anything. No, not at all.
His grave was covered in flowers from friends and family. Most of them had dotted the polished obsidian all over in their thanks- campanulas, pink roses... there were a few ones that were unique. Henry had visited an hour before the funeral and weaved blue salvia all over the headstone, careful enough to leave Scott's name and epitaph readable. He clearly wanted to show how much he'd been thinking about his son.
William's own son looked hesitant, but had brought flowers of his own... blue salvia along with carnations. Thanking Scott for the lovely time they'd had.
How sweet.
As Michael left, he caught the eye of another man he'd worked with, who he hadn't seen in a long time. Jeremy, now grown up, nodded in greeting but said no words, and both were content. It wasn't the time for catching up- both knew that. This was hard enough as it was.
There was a young woman accompanying Jeremy- as far as William knew, the two followed each other everywhere. She wasn't wearing any makeup, and her dress was dark and simple. Her hands were wringing a pair of green glasses nervously.
Her eyes were red, and it didn't look like they'd be dry anytime soon. She only made it to the grave before she lost it- collapsing to her knees, wracked with sobs. Her forehead rested against the stone, and she held it, closing her eyes.
The young woman's companion put his hand on her shoulder, letting her cry for a long time. All the guests had left by now- it was just her, Jeremy, and William in the small clearing.
"Colette."
She sniffed, looking up at Jeremy.
"It's time to go...." He looked hesitant, like he didn't want to hurt her feelings. She nodded, wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief.
"Y-yeah... Yeah." Colette patted the stone, standing up and breathing shakily. "Bye, big brother. I'll talk to you soon."
It was only after they left that William went to the headstone, crouching down to look at the writing.
Scott Damien Cawthon
July 26, 1968- December 3, 1995
"You are the world's next big thing."
William, for the first time in years, had a genuine smile on his face.
(A/N: I did have to change a few things around, such as making "Phone Guy" Scott three years older than IRL Scott to fit the timeline.
Also, spending around ten minutes trying to figure out if Mike's paycheck in FNaF One was dated on December 11th or November 12th gave me a headache, so I eventually had to look up the American dating system once again. This will now be the standard dating used in this series (DD/MM/YYYY)
*le gaspe* Ohhh looooook, a character that everyone was introduced to earlier but no one had any idea where she fit in the stooooooryyyyyy)
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In Medias Res- (Eyes of Purple Book Two)
FanfictionMichael is haunted by ghosts. It doesn't matter. The similarity between him and his father, William- the ghosts want him gone. Luckily, Michael has help, in the form of pre-recorded messages left to him by a former friend. But the past has a way of...
