How do you tell a man to whom you owe your life a hard truth? How can you look into the eyes that pulled you from your own darkness and tell him that his dream is a husk?
There's no clean end to it now. I know that(more) much.
The flesh shrinks from him. His eyes are fixed far in the distance on some invisible beacon that guides him to the end of all things. Of course he still commands, works the crew, rallies them to the task at hand, to the glory that awaits them at journey's end. But I hardly think he sees them when he speaks. I fear the demons he harbors eat him from the outside in.
I want to confront him. To shake his gaze free from the gravity of that impetus that steers him to his death and press him to his purpose.
To ask outright if he sees what he has become. If he realizes his madness will damn us all. To hear from his own mouth that he cannot see how he will have to pass so far beyond the pale that nothing he seeks there can ever come back with him.
But I do not question. Perhaps I fear to see him collapse under the weight of his own sudden self-awareness. Perhaps I simply don't want to hear that he does in fact see all these things and is not swayed by them.
He is lost to us. But I know the dark road he travels, and I won't let him travel alone.