Chapter Text
Knock-knock-knock.
Pete and his mother turned to the front door. It was a strange interruption; they don’t usually get visitors. Any of those came with his father’s squadron being stateside.
They were fighting a war way across the world.
“Stay here, honey. I’ve got it,” she said, standing up from the small coffee table to answer the door.
They were putting together a puzzle. It was three hundred pieces, the biggest one Pete had ever tried! He couldn’t even count to three hundred…
Pete was only four. He had just learned how to read books—his mother said he was one of the smartest kids she’d ever met.
The puzzle was from his dad; a picture of his plane. An F-4 Phantom, he called it. Maybe Pete would fly one someday, so he could be with his dad in the sky. They could be partners! Or…what did his dad say again? Wingmans?
He was trying to find the last corner piece for the outside—his mom said that making the outside made the inside part easier. But where was the corner piece?
“Hello?” he heard his mom say. Her voice sounded scared. “Yes, that’s me. Please tell me everything’s okay.”
“Mrs. Mitchell, I’m so sorry…” Pete tuned out the voice from the visitor, looking for the small piece. Rummaging through the pile they’d spilled the puzzle pieces into, he turned every one over to the picture side. He swore he had checked every one.
His mom was crying over there , he noted. He was about to turn to look at the front door when something hit him in the forehead.
He looked up quickly, only to find the missing piece lying in front of him. Someone had thrown it at him.
But there was nobody else in the house.
He turned to find where it was thrown from—who threw it at him and was met with a sight.
Hello .
His father, standing right in front of him.
“Daddy?”
…sorry, his dad said.
“What for?”
His dad was not…quite right. He wasn’t normal. He looked more like a shadow. Tell…mommy…love her.
“The United States Navy owes you a debt we can never repay,” Pete heard one of the men outside say.
“Why can’t you tell her, daddy?”
Pete…can’t tell her...
“Okay,” Pete agreed. “When will you be back?”
Tell…mommy I love...
The door shut. Pete’s mom fell to the floor in despair. “Mommy?” He walked over to his mother to sit with her. He didn’t quite understand what this was all about, but he could finish the puzzle later.
“Pete,” his mom spoke after a while, her voice distorted through the tears. “Your dad is never coming home. Not anymore.”
“But he’s right…” Pete looked to the spot where he had just talked to his father.
He was gone.
“Oh.”
“What are you talking about, honey?”
“Daddy told me to tell you that he loves you.”
Later in life, Pete would say she stopped crying out of hysteria. She stopped completely and stared at him in disbelief. “What?”
“Daddy loves you, that’s what he said.” Pete didn’t get it, what was so confusing about his statement?
“Go to your room.”
_________
Pete didn’t like school, but middle school was by far the worst.
All the other kids were finally growing some sort of conscience and once they discovered his dad’s clusterfuck of a death, it was over for him. Of course, he knew the truth.
Over the years, his dad explained it to him through Pete’s dreams. It wasn’t his fault or any of his squadron members’ fault. The Navy sent them across enemy lines to fight, and they lost. Not only the fight but a life.
His dad was a hero. He sacrificed his life to save his squadron. However, acknowledging that would mean that the Navy would have to admit they’d messed up.
He had brief visions of the Navy. Hiding the truth, filing away any proof of the real story. All the documents were placed under a high classification. His dad’s feelings were clear and Pete felt something akin to heartbreak every time he was shown it. The only way Pete would uncover the truth (despite what he saw) was by getting cleared to view it. He would have to join the Navy to access it.
Despite all of that, Pete couldn’t go around yelling about how he saw the true story in his dreams—people would call him psycho. So, he would have to endure the harassment from his peers about how his dad was a deserter…or whatever the Navy said.
“He’s a traitor, Mitchell!” A boy from his third period yelled across the hall. His name was Jason Smith…Pete’s main headache. Jason made it his mission to torment the short and scrawny Pete Mitchell, who just wanted to get through sixth grade in one piece.
It was lunchtime, and everyone was heading to the cafeteria to be first in line to grab the school lunch. Especially today, because Fridays were pizza day. Pete didn’t hurry to get in line, because any time he got a good spot, Jason and his friends would kick him out of line anyway. Plus, all the pizza tasted the same, so who cares if you were near the back?
After five minutes, Pete found a secluded table to eat undisturbed. Skillfully placed across the cafeteria from his greatest nuisance, he would enjoy his time eating today. He found this really interesting book on how planes worked and was almost finished—he needed to return it to the school library today or he would be paying a fine.
Lunch was only twenty-five minutes long, but it was enough time for Pete to multitask through eating and reading. Successfully finishing the book with no pizza-grease stains on the pages, he threw out the lunch tray and went to the bathroom to wash his hands.
The bathroom was silent and empty, as it usually was since the majority of kids forgot to wash their hands after eating. As he was doing that, he looked into the mirror to fix his hair but stopped dead. He whipped around only to find nobody there—like he expected.
He turned to the mirror again, to lock eyes with that figure again.
He could recognize his mother anywhere.
Even discolored, shadowy, and two-dimensional looking. It wasn’t about the who, though, it was the why.
Why was he seeing his mom like he saw his dad?
Was this some cruel trick Jason was playing on him? His breath quickened. He knew it wasn’t. Nobody knew about what he saw.
Was she…dead?
The bell rang for the kids to go back to class. Pete didn’t move. He needed to go home .
In a haze, he managed to sneak out a side door without drawing attention. He was sure to face punishment for that on Monday, but he didn’t care. He needed to know if she was okay.
Ever since Pete had said that his dad talked to him that day, his mother limited the conversation about his father. She didn’t want to hear it because she couldn’t confirm it. Pete knew she was being ridiculous, he saw his dad continuously shaking his head in bemusement at her avoidance of the topic sometimes.
She never took stock of his comments on the matter, always telling him that he needed to get over his dad’s death and that he was never coming back. No matter how many times he tried to explain, she told him to stop because he sounded delusional.
She would never do this…would she?
He made it home in record time, taking every shortcut he knew. He pulled the doormat aside to grab the house key. When he touched the doorknob to open it, a voice muttered in the back of his mind.
Bathroom. Blood .
“No,” he spoke aloud despite knowing it made no difference. “Shut up.”
He heard the water running down the hall. From the bathroom. His forearms stung badly, but when he looked down at them, nothing was there. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what it meant. When he turned the corner to walk to the bathroom, he saw water seeping out from under the crack in the door. He wasn’t stupid. He knew.
He knew.
He crept towards the door. He didn’t want to open the door, but who else was going to do it?
He regretted it immediately after, slamming it shut and backing up. He couldn’t think. The smell was metallic-y and awful, but that wasn’t the worst part.
Forever would that image be engraved into his mind like a permanent marker on printer paper. He had no words to describe it, but the sight spoke for itself.
“ 9-1-1, what’s your emergency? ”
When had he dialed the cops?
“I—uh, uh. 5308 Parker Street.”
“ What is the emergency? Do you need police, ambulance, or fire? ”
“My mom is dead.”
Dear Pete,
I’m sorry everything ended up this way. Just know that it wasn’t your fault and that I love you so much. Even if I never talked to you about it, I know how special you are. When you said you could speak to your father, even after death, it hurt to know I could not. Maybe we will talk again soon, but just know I am happy that I get to see your father again. I love you so much.
Mom ♡
________
Adoption was never going to happen. However, that didn’t stop them from trying. And failing…miserably.
First, he was too old. Any parent would want a baby—a young child at the oldest—so that they could raise them as their own and not worry about the emotional baggage that came along with being an orphan. It was cruel, but a fact nonetheless.
Next, if he ever got the opportunity to be fostered, it would quickly end due to his “odd behavior”.
Reason: Child shows eccentric behavior, foster parents are unequipped to handle it.
Reason: Child is presenting with signs of delusions.
Reason: Child cannot let go of his biological parents, foster parents couldn’t form a connection.
Reason: Child was heard talking to a wall.
…You get the idea.
He understood why these foster parents were freaked out by his…spiritual connections, since he had never explained it to any of them in fear of being thrown in a psych ward, but how hard was it to love a kid?
However, this new pair of foster parents...they got it down-pat.
They didn’t care where he was, as long as he returned home every night, went to school, and did what they asked. In return, Pete wouldn’t bother them for much and stay out of their way. It was a working system and it led to no real problems.
They didn’t ask him to pretend to be their kid, they didn’t ask that he pretend they were his parents. They got their check from the government, and he got to be left alone.
He even got a job, which was cool. He was the cashier at the local grocery store, which paid decently given that he was only fifteen years old. He started dual enrolling at the local community college in exchange for being at the high school for less time. He was on track to have an Associate’s Degree before he graduated.
However, on more otherworldly topics, he was learning quite a lot.
Untrue to her suggestion, his mother never had shown up to see him but his father was still here. He felt his presence the majority of the time. It was a gamble on whether he would actually see his spirit or not.
Spirit was a new word for him as well. He had gone to the public library to find some information about what he could see, and at first, it was full of researchers saying, “ghosts aren’t real” over and over again.
Pete’s not saying that ghosts are real. What he sees is different from what is portrayed in movies and TV shows. He can feel a disturbance when spirits are around. On the off-chance he actually can see something, it’s like seeing it through a distorted camera that doesn’t function properly.
Spirits could channel their thoughts through him, their feelings, and their own experiences. More than once had he woken up from a dream because he experienced something that happened to somebody else. Once, he was walking around town when he passed a graveyard. An old man’s spirit slowly approached and he felt as if his insides were going to explode. Later on, he learned that the man had died from a burst appendix.
Pete had seen, felt, and heard too much to be skeptical anymore. And plus, his dad would frown at him for being cynical.
When he saw a spirit with his eyes, it usually was when the dead person desired it so badly that they made themselves known. It wasn’t often, but when it happened, it was a strange experience. Thankfully, he had never encountered entities with bad intentions…or whatever it was when the spirits tried to do harm from beyond.
It was during one of these times that he met his first friend.
It was late, he should’ve been going home. However, this desolate field was luring him. His curiosity got the better of him that night.
The rumors about this place in particular were that it was “haunted”. Pete wasn’t sure if it was an exaggeration or not. Apparently, every so often, you could hear screams during the night. The fact that he was coming here at night wasn’t promising.
Just as he was going to walk further into the grass, someone stopped him.
“Hello?” A voice said from behind him and Pete jumped in surprise.
“Oh, jeez, you scared me,” Pete replied after catching his breath.
“Oh, my bad man,” the boy replied. Pete took in the other’s appearance. He was blond, lanky, and very tall. Not like himself, who was brunet and short, unfortunately. “Just wanted to let you know that people advise against going out there.”
“I know,” he replied, and the boy looked taken aback. “Felt like coming out here.”
“I’m not looking forward to you going missing and the police making me their prime suspect.”
“You can come along,” he suggested. “Fair warning, people think I’m freaky.”
“Freaky? You?” the taller one asked jokingly. “Yeah, no, I’ll take my chances with you. Where are we going…” he trailed off. “What’s your name?”
“Oh, sorry,” he realized he had never mentioned that. “Pete Mitchell.”
“Nice to meet you, Pete Mitchell. I’m Nick Bradshaw.”
“Same to you.” After a moment, Pete turned on his heel and left his new acquaintance to hurry up.
“Oh—uh, we are leaving now, I guess.”
They walked into the depths of the field in relative silence, occasionally interrupted by a few comments from Nick, who Pete quickly realized would never shut up.
“So, uh, how old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Nice,” Nick said. “I’m seventeen.”
“Cool.”
…
“D’ya have a flashlight?” Nick asked. “It’s getting a little dark out here.”
“Yeah.”
“Ok.”
…
“So, what are you doing out here, anyway?”
“Exploring,” Pete half-assed the truth. He didn’t need to scare off this poor guy.
“What for?”
“Just because.”
“Oh, okay,” Nick’s voice raised a pitch. “Local boys go missing after entering a scary field “just because”, more at—” Pete suddenly froze.
“Shut up.” Nick had to stop quickly to avoid bumping into the other.
“Wow—hello—”
“Shut up, I’m serious.”
“Oh.”
They stood in silence for a moment before Pete spoke up. “Hello?” he said carefully.
“Hey?” Nick replied in confusion.
“Not you.”
“I—what—okay.” Nick looked around, trying to see what Pete was looking at.
“Hi,” Pete said again. “I know you know I can see you.”
“See who?”
“Tell you in a second.”
“Huh…”
“Do you wanna try to talk with me?” Pete pulled out the flashlight from his back pocket and placed it on the floor. “You can turn the flashlight on and off if you want.” He didn’t turn to look at Nick, who was probably confused and worried for his sanity. “Do you want to try?”
Nothing happened.
“Pete, I don’t think anything’s gonna—”
The flashlight turned on.
“What the fuck?” Nick blurted out in shock, stepping back instinctively. The flashlight turned back off.
“Stop, you scared her.”
“ Her ?” Nick asked. “Who is her?”
“Tell you in a minute.”
“Am I dreaming?”
“No, stop talking.”
“Damn.”
Pete returned his attention to the spirit. What he said was true; this spirit was very reluctant. He might even go as far as to say she was scared. “Sorry about him, he’s slow. He won’t hurt you.”
“Hey!”
“I’ll wait for you,” Pete said. “You can take your time.” The atmosphere around him gained a slight chill to it, which made him grin. “It’s okay.” This time, Nick stayed silent. The flashlight gave a flicker before turning back off. “That’s it. Are you okay now?”
It flicked on. “Thank you. Do you mind if I ask a question?” The light stayed on. “Are you the one that people hear screaming sometimes?” The light continued to shine and Pete got the idea that he was right. The cold air lingered but he wasn’t bothered, it was almost comforting.
“Why is it so cold?” Nick whispered from behind him.
“Energy,” Pete dubiously answered.
“I…okay…”
…died, a feminine voice answered in the back of his head.
“Oh,” he said. “Are you screaming for help, then?” The flashlight turned off and back on. So, like, maybe?
Pain .
“Ah.”
“What is happening?” Nick asked. “And I’m asking in a nice way, not like…condescending or whatever.”
“She’s the woman who people hear screaming at night,” his new friend’s eyes widened in recognition. “She told me that the screams were because she was in pain.”
“So, she was killed? Or is it something else?”
K…ll…d.
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “She just said “killed” to me, so pretty much. I’m sorry that happened to you, miss.”
Justice .
“Justice…” he echoed.
“She wants justice for whoever killed her? Well, how do we know who did it?”
“If she wants to tell me, she can,” he offered, turning forward again. The flashlight flickered off and the warmth returned again. Pete frowned. “She left, I think.”
“Oh.”
“Eh,” he shrugged, gathering the flashlight and turning to Nick. “Wasn’t too bad—could’ve gone worse, to be honest.”
“Could’ve gone worse ?”
________
And that’s how he’d met Nick.
At first, he thought that the older boy would get bored of him and find better company, but as time went on, Pete learned otherwise. For as long as they’d known each other, they were attached at the hip—Pete, because he had no other friends, and Nick because he liked Pete more than everyone else—and they were practically inseparable. It’s no wonder how they both ended up as aspiring Naval Aviators.
Pete had unintentionally convinced him to join the Navy. Nick was seventeen and happened to be at the right point in his high school career to apply for a congressional nomination. He got it, of course—his academic performance was spectacular and anyone who’d ever met him loved him.
They wanted to be pilot and RIO together, but the two-year difference was going to cause issues down the road. You still had to attend the Academy for four years, regardless of how many college courses one had already taken. However, they’d find a way to work around it—Pete was sure of it.
“Pete, you have mail.”
He looked up at his foster mom as they tossed a couple of envelopes on the table as he was eating breakfast. His eyes widened as he registered the nature of the letters—they were his college admissions.
He had applied to other schools, mostly for fun and to see where else he could get in and then brag about it later. He quickly grabbed the Annapolis envelope and opened it in anticipation.
Dear Mr. Mitchell,
Thank you for your interest in joining the United States Naval Academy. Unfortunately—
Fuck.
He slowly put the letter down and turned his gaze to his Stanford University admission letter. Thankfully, after he opened it he knew how to reroute his life. First, he needed to write to Nick.
Dearest Nicholas Bradshaw,
Didn’t get into USNA!! Honestly, I should’ve expected it, my life is too crazy for something to go right. It’s whatever, Stanford has an NROTC program and if I do it right, I might graduate at the same time you do, since I’m going to have my AA when I graduate high school.
I don’t know, maybe this will work? It might even be better since I’ll be in flight school faster? (assuming everything else goes to plan)
Talk to you soon, come home safe,
Pete
To the Amazing Pete Mitchell,
I’m sorry, that sucks. I was really excited to introduce you to some of the friends I’ve made. But, maybe you’re right. Maybe this will work better than your original plan. Plus, I can just tell you stuff that we’re learning here in Annapolis.
Also, congratulations on Stanford! It’s hard to get in…which makes me all the more confused about how you didn’t get into USNA, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. Regardless, we’ll celebrate your accomplishment when I get home.
See you soon!
Nick
“Was it something to do with you?” Pete said in the silence of his bedroom as he stared up at the ceiling.
Pro…bly.
The soon-to-be eighteen-year-old turned to look into the empty area. The room was practically packed away into boxes, and the move-in date for Stanford was approaching quickly. He stared at the dubious figure of what was his father’s spirit. Duke was hardly visible, but Pete could tell where he was nonetheless.
To be completely honest, he was surprised that he was getting coherent answers from his dead father. The communication was never the best when it came to Pete’s “abilities”.
You…okay.
Words wouldn’t pass through completely and phrases became hard to decipher. Through years of practice and fine-tuning, he slowly learned how to fill in the blanks. He learned how to tell if a spirit was positive or negative, what said spirit was doing or saying to him, why they showed up all of a sudden, and the list goes on.
There had been too many times when Pete had accidentally channeled a spirit’s feelings when it wasn’t the best time to do so. Eventually, he found ways to separate himself from that, but there are some moments where it’s too overwhelming and…
Point is, he had to learn. Sink or swim.
Smart .
And hey, if the result of learning how to communicate meant he got to hear his father telling him how intelligent he is, he’ll take it…and it was a cool party trick.
Nick always indulged him in his endeavors. Whenever a spirit came by, he was always interested in how Pete communicated. In special cases, if the spirits were high-energy, Nick would get to see things fall off shelves, stuff moving around, doors opening, and floors creaking. He always got a little freaked out, but Nick’s always like that with things he doesn’t completely understand.
Pete always thought that Nick liked him so much because he provided some adrenaline combined with mystery.
Nick said it was because he’s a good person. Whatever that meant.