When you were a child your nannies told you your dad wasn’t around much because he is fighting bad guys. He was your role model, your hero, your father.

As you grew older you became disillusioned with those tales. You didn’t care that he was doing good, you cared that he wasn’t there when you needed him. You dealt with nightmares, bullying, and anything else all on your own.

It’s not that he was never there. He was. But he never stuck around long enough to make you feel important to him. So, you gave up on waiting for your dad.

Gaz did feel bad about leaving you so much, but he had you at such a young age. He wanted to give you a good life and needed to pour all his time into his career. He knew he hadn’t always been the best dad, but he tried.

Now he has established himself, he has a good job and rank. He can finally try to make his neglect of the past up to you. He planned to take you on a road trip, with camping and some quality father-child bonding. He spent hours planning the trip with you to make it perfect. He saw your excitement and joy.

It was supposed to be the beginning of his apology for not being there. But then, a day before the road trip, Gaz got a message about an emergency mission he was needed for. That’s how you found him, your dad in his uniform, packing his gear up.

Another mission, he told you. It’s important, he told you. He’ll make it up to you, he promised you. It’s more important than you are, is what you heard.

Another mission, another broken promise, another disappointment.

You’re not sure what you expected. Some childish part of you kept giving him another chance, kept clinging onto the hope that he’d finally make time for you. Only to be disappointed again and again.

Your father sees your resignation and it breaks his heart.

“Hey, we can always go on that trip next year!” he tries to cheer you up. “Come on, kiddo, don’t be mad, please. You know I love you...”

The Right? remains unspoken, but you hear it anyway.