Pain of the Past (a Preminger fanfiction)

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The twins were getting harder to argue with the older they got. Now so more than ever, Preminger thought this to be true as the two stared him down from across the room.

Their faces were both red with sun from days in the streets, or whatever it was they did for work now. It varied from hired help to street performing, but Preminger knew a pick pocket when he saw one. It was hardly of use arguing with them on that anymore. If that was how they wanted to earn their wages, they could do it. Only they shouldn't except him to come running to the jail when they were inevitably arrested, he told them.

"I don't get it, an opportunity like that comes walking right up to you and you're going to just walk away?" Nack was nearly shouting in exasperation.

"What opportunity? He's a radical, there's plenty of them that travel from town to town trying to stir stuff up. It's the same story every time, about change being just around the corner and what not." Preminger said dismissively, dragging the body of his small knife across a potato skin. "Being an insurgent is not exactly a paying job, you know. The only thing it really guarantees is jail. Or an untimely death."

"I can't believe you," Nack scoffed, kicking at the dusty floor as he waved his half peeled carrot in the air. "What happened to all that stuff you used to tell us when we were kids?"

"You still are kids."

"What your father used to say. About taking your life into your own hands, not letting people step on you and all that."

Preminger placed the bare potato in a pot, letting out a sigh as he wiped the starch from his blade.

"You don't know a thing about my father," He said starkly. "He wanted an honest life for me, you think me using his dying words to justify throwing my life away would honor his memory?"

"Im saying that fighting for something, standing up for your people, inspired by your father's story, that is a life worth living."

The twins wide eyes were both holding on Preminger's face searchingly. He knew what they wanted from him, but life wasn't like those stories people would tell to their children at night. It wasn't filled with hero's and villains, it was mundane, it was realistic, and often times, disappointing.

"You're just kids," He said dismissively. "I'm talking about real adult life."

Instantly, the two turned their noses to the air in distaste.

"Maybe we'll go find him them," Nick prodded, bobbing his yellow head.

"Right," Nack agreed, "We'll go find him and take him up on his offer."

Preminger scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous."

"What are you so afraid of?"

Again, Preminger sighed, setting aside his knife and turning to look at the boys directly.

"William is charismatic. That means he's likable. People like that will say anything to sway you to their side. I don't want to live a life pushing someone else's agenda. I don't want to die fighting for an impossible cause. Of all the things my father taught me, the greatest was that hard work pays off. So thats what I'm going to do, work hard and build myself a good life."

Angrily, Nack stormed from the room, casting Preminger a distasteful look as he went. Quietly, Preminger turned back to his cooking, dicing away at the meager vegetables they'd gathered for supper. There was indeed a part of him that felt guilty, that understood where the others were coming from, but choosing your battles wisely was a skill that could mean life and death. In this case, he truly felt he was choosing life.

In the silent moments that passed, Preminger had almost completely forgotten that Nick had not left with his brother. When the small boy spoke, he was given quite the start.

"Preminger," he said, his face screwed in concentration as though he'd spent the last few moments gathering his thoughts. "I think you're wrong about your father."

Preminger raised a curious eyebrow, the anger from earlier having significantly boiled down.

"You said he wanted an honest life for you. I've tried thinking about that a lot, I have. No matter how much I think, I can't figure anything more honest than a life true to who you are. You're chasing after your fathers dream; don't you think in order to live an honest life, you should be chasing after yours?"

Preminger was silent. The thought struck him between the eyes and sunk into his brain like an arrow against its target. When he gave no indication of a response, Nick quietly dipped his fair head and disappeared from the room, leaving the man alone with his thoughts.

He was alone with his thoughts a lot, after that. The three ate a bland soup together for supper, but they ate in silence. Nack still seemed bitter from their earlier interaction. Nick had offered no words since.

Preminger found himself unable to sleep that night. Instead, he lay awake in thought, Nick's words repeating in his head as he combed through the final memories he had of his father. He thought of his father nearly every day, it was the thought of him that kept Preminger going. But only now did he realize that somewhere down the line, it was not truly his father he was remembering. Instead, in his memories was a botched illustration of him that Preminger had tailored to his own needs over time.

Those calloused hands had turned soft in his memory, and with guilt he realized he'd almost forgotten the man he once knew. This new man in his memories walked with his head down and with gritted teeth, just as Preminger had learned to do in the mines and in the orphanage. But when had his father ever hung his head?

You're so much more than a peasants son.

He'd lost sight of himself in his mission to survive, so much so that he'd forgotten what it meant to live.

You're destined for greatness, son. Don't let the hardships of life take that away from you.

The waves of guilt swelling in his stomach had hardened by the time the sun was on the rise. Pushing himself from bed, Preminger dressed quickly. He knew there were deep bags etched beneath his eyes but he didn't care. A new fire had sparked in him, one he'd snuffed out many years ago but was ready now to relight.

Down the old wooden stairs and out into the teeming dawn streets, Preminger knew he had a job to do, and finding William was his first step to redemption.

You're going to rule this land one day, Preminger, his father's voice rang in his head, clearer now than it had in years.

They'll try and stop you; the whole world will push against you, but you stand your ground and you climb to the very top.

And never forget, I am always here with you.