"I know so little of him. I've never held a kind thought about him either." It was not what most men grew to think of their fathers. Peleus had done nothing hateful to him other than being an absent figure. He was a name. He had a reputation, but his son had succeeded him. "He's nothing more than a name to me." It was why Achilles had grown so close to his comrades. Patroclus, Odysseus, Ajax, and many more over the centuries. He had no father figure. "It's why I failed with my own son." Neopotolemus had made a ghost of an appearance only to disappear again. Achilles in some way had always wanted to build some sort of relationship for where he and his own father had failed. He'd never been given the chance to be a father. It was probably left better that way. But, as Memorial Day approached in a few weeks, he contemplated on the what could have been's instead of what was the here and now, or what had already passed.