Chapter Text
I.
It’s gray and cloudy outside. The air is cold and there is some rain in the afternoon, a loud pitter patter on the tin roof of the hangar. Strong wind gusts attack the structure from the outside, resulting in small, creaking sounds almost as if somebody would be walking around inside the building.
Iceman calls in the evening and Pete clears his throat quickly before accepting the call as to not to raise suspicion, so that Tom wouldn’t figure that he just woke up – that he was sleeping all day. Sarah and Tom are back to Honolulu for his job: the internal investigation has ended and the Navy was found at no fault for conducting the mission. As a subject of the investigation, Tom has no way of knowing what Pete told the committee and based on his tone he’s clearly suspicious that Pete either downplayed or straight out lied to them about Tom’s reluctance to put the mission on hold. Tom sounds curious, but Pete steers away from the subject.
“How are you doing?” Tom asks.
“Very well,” Pete replies, not too fast, not forcibly cheerful and yet Tom figures that he’s lying.
“They want you to go back to San Diego for treatment,” he says. “The doctors in China Lake say they don’t have the resources to have you in outpatient care. That's doctor speak to say that you missed your appointment, didn’t pick up the prescribed medication and that they don’t want to be held responsible in case something happens to you.”
“I’m… Alright…,” Pete says in the darkness of the trailer. He’s not alright; he doesn’t know what day it is, hasn’t eaten anything or stepped out from the camper for two days. None of that is Iceman’s business and he shares nothing about it. At the end Pete promises that he’ll call the clinic for an appointment first thing in the morning and that proves to be enough.
Later Pete gets up and takes a shower. To avoid going straight back to the bed he gets out from the Airstream and sits down on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. It’s cold and dark in the hangar and it’s loud from the rain outside. He looks at his cell phone, at the dozens of calls and messages he’s chosen to ignore from the past few days; from friends, from the clinic – from Hangman. Jake left ten days earlier unenthusiastically, to attend some sort of family event in his hometown. He said he would be back soon and Pete waved goodbye with a smile when he took off, just to go ahead and leave most of the kid’s messages, calls and finally, the worried voicemails unanswered. Pete doesn’t want him to come back; he’s grateful for the good times they had and for the distraction, but at the end of the day Jake’s just wasting his time here, the time he should spend with people close to him and not at this godforsaken place out of some misplaced guilt over the mission. Pete knew that he would miss Jake, but he didn’t expect the collapse that followed. Now that he had all that time for himself, memories came back fast and just after two days Pete woke up from a nightmare of being waterboarded with his hands on his own throat, awake, but still unable to breathe. It’s been a steep downhill ride ever since with constant nightmares and flashbacks of the events that took place during the weeks of his captivity.
To some extent Pete knows that he needs help, but he can’t ask: Bradley is a very present threat against his homeland and even a civilian therapist would be compelled to report their findings about him to the authorities, let alone a Navy doctor. So he sleeps, even though the nightmares soon become persistent and he loses motivation to leave the place. There is still food in the refrigerator and the store is just a few miles away, but he has no appetite and now that he’s alone he doesn’t have to pretend anymore. His whole life feels like one big failure with the desire of doing the right thing and ending up accomplishing the exact opposite, hurting people the closest to him in the process. Had he not interfered with Bradley’s application to the academy, none of this would’ve happened and many people would be still alive today. Who was he to decide whether the kid was ready to become a pilot? Had Bradley not been ready, he would’ve been simply denied – the requirements to become a strike fighter pilot are high and there are countless people that apply and never get to see a jet from up close at the end. And as for Carole’s wish; she was dying at that time and her ideas and requests came from a different place and separate mindset – it was Pete who should’ve known better. It was him, who should’ve never interfered; it was his choice to become a do-gooder, a busybody with the constant need of meddling with other people’s lives, the type of folks that always made Pete cringe. Figuring out that he himself has always been one of these insufferable creatures, seeing where all that goodwill has led to makes him want to crawl up and not to get up again; and that’s exactly what Pete’s doing.
His phone makes a notification sound and he looks at it. It’s a message from Jake, asking how he’s doing. It’s a carefully worded, short text, unlike the ones he used to send when he was around – this is a message written with the intention not to trigger a negative reaction. Pete collects himself and replies, saying that all’s good and that he hopes life’s treating Jake and the family well. Anything less would be ill-mannered after all that time Jake wasted on him; anything more could make the kid worried. He deserves a nice sendoff considering that he was more than patient when he’s been around, surprisingly so almost, considering his otherwise cocky attitude.
There is another creaking sound in the hangar and Pete looks there. But the place is empty and he’s alone; at the end he managed to drive everybody away. It’s cold and so he goes back to bed, ignoring the pain in his empty belly. The idea of food reminds him of the rigid plastic of the feeding tube in his throat these days. He sleeps and in his dream he’s at some public place with a lot of people around. In the room the television is on; people are listening silently and some of them are crying. On the television screen there are some apocalyptic scenes unfolding, a tragedy on the scale of 9/11. In the dream Pete’s standing with his eyes on the television and he knows; he knows who’s behind the catastrophe and that it happened because he, Pete, had chosen to remain silent about Bradley.
In the morning he wakes up with a sore throat and his pillow is wet. Pete looks at his phone and he decides that it’s too late to call the clinic for an appointment; maybe tomorrow. He gets up slowly, dizzy and weak from the self-imposed starvation once more. It’s quiet outside, no sign of rain or the harsh wind and Pete decides to venture outside.
The sun is out and the last traces of the rain are slowly evaporating from the concrete. Pete’s blinking in the sharp light; he should crawl back into his dark cave. A vehicle is approaching from the direction of the main road, a car Pete doesn’t know and doesn’t pay much attention to. The hangar is not the last building on the airport way and he expects the car just to pass by. He notices that the edge of some paper mail is sticking out from the metal mailbox that’s fastened to the hangar wall. Pete goes there and pulls out the envelopes, bills, a few coupon books and other advertisements; and a postcard. He looks at the mail with his back to the road and the postcard catches his eyes. The picture on the back of the card is of an exotic white sand beach with a turquoise sea and limestone stacks farther away from the shore. It’s the Andaman Sea, based on the text printed on the top of the photo and even before turning the card around Pete’s already trying to remember if any of his friends mentioned to him that they were planning a vacation in that area. Back in the years Pete would have wondered whether anyone he knew was deployed there, but long gone the days when people close to him were on active duty. He looks at the back of the card and he finds little writing. It’s his name and address at the appropriate place and only a date written where the message part should be. Pete takes out his phone and he sees that the date marked on the card was one week earlier; it’s when they mailed the card on the other side of the world. He’s staring at the postcard, trying to figure who could have sent it and why there are no greetings written on the back. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting and the place has no significance for him, it carries no deeper meaning or shared memory with anyone he knows.
And then he understands.
Pete leans forward and he braces himself against the hangar wall with one hand. Tears are burning his eyes and he’s choked up. All he wants to do is to get back in the hangar and take a good look at the card, but then he realizes that the car he saw a minute earlier did not drive by, but stopped at the hangar, a few feet behind him. Pete turns around, holding the newsletters, envelopes and the card against his chest - he looks at the now stopped vehicle and at the driver who’s standing next to his car and watching him quietly.
II.
The boat is an Island Gypsy from the eighties. It’s the first one that catches Bradley’s eyes in the marina, with a large ‘For Sale’ sign taped to the window. He goes to the shack, where he finds an agent that speaks good English. It appears that the boat was left there by her German owner just the day before, priced to ensure a quick sale. It’s in good working condition, maintained by a careful owner, who comes by riding a scooter like locals do when the agent calls him to make the deal.
Bradley wasn’t planning to live on a boat, but his new purchase has a small bed, a water block and air conditioner on board and so he moves his bag in the boatshed for the time being. There are not many valuables he needs to worry about; aside from some cash his money is in a new bank account in Switzerland. Coming in and out from Europe under his real name unbothered reassured Bradley once more that nobody is looking for him – and now he’s here, away from the United States and from the Middle East, here on a land to which he has no ties to and has no history with.
When he decided to leave his chosen home, Bradley did so with the clear intent of going after Pete. He was running hot on emotions, want, anger and regret and he wasn’t going to let go, even if it meant that he would end up dead in the end. The understanding came later, after he realized that Pete had kept silent about him – that he had lied to the Navy after his return to home in order to protect Bradley. Even then there were a few days when all Bradley wanted was to find Pete and to drag him out from whatever place he’s holed up at; show him that there’s no escape. Awakening from those fantasies came when Bradley understood that this road would lead to nowhere else, but to death – to Pete’s death. He’s still breathing, Bradley was thinking, but Pete must know that he’s on borrowed time; that he’s committed suicide by keeping silent about Bradley Bradshaw. Pete’s one step before checkmate and any move Bradley would make would kill him. Most obviously, Bradley could go after him, enter the US without as much as being questioned, find and attack Pete – and knowing how little self-control Bradley has around him, it’s all but granted that it would not end up well for Pete. Or, Bradley could stay where he was, in service of his new country, pretending that their paths had never crossed each other. Even then, it’s only a matter of time for the US authorities to find out about Bradley. After the failed uranium mission they would certainly put extra effort into revealing the mastermind behind the setup. It would happen in a couple of months, the most, when Bradley would be entrusted with the next high profile task against the West; and the Americans would know. They would know that it was Bradley all that time – they would know that Pete lied to them. And if there’s something Bradley’s certain about it’s that they would have no mercy for Pete. They’d throw him in prison and for somebody like Pete incarceration would equal death. It’s not just him, Bradley was thinking, it wasn’t just Pete in an impossible position, but Bradley as well: he had to make his next move as if he’s walking on a minefield. He found that he couldn’t move: he was a figure on the chessboard, glued to his square with the absolute certainty that any step he would make, would be knocking the king over. Any step – but one.
The boat is rocking softly on the waves. The weather is hot and dry; it’s tourist season and amongst the white faces Bradley is just another rich foreigner in the eyes of the locals. He’s living the dream: Pete’s dream of him, lost at a distant place on board some boat, far away from the troubles of his homeland and his own past. It’s not his dream, but it is one and being here for a while means staying off the radar of the US authorities. It means that Pete’s safe and Bradley’s golden age lives on, unattainable for him for the time being but alive nonetheless.
A few days pass and Bradley relaxes somewhat. He’s gone through life angrily, always on the edge and now, by necessity, he’s got to pick up the carefree and laid-back lifestyle of this land. It’s something other Westerners consider as luxury and pay big money for it, while for Bradley it’s something entirely new and unnerving at the beginning. When he’s not on the boat discovering the Indian Ocean, he’s walking around the beaches and cities with no particular road plan whatsoever. Gradually he starts to breathe, begins to find peace for the first time in his life. Bradley doesn’t know where he’s heading to; he can’t imagine himself fulfilling Pete’s dream for him with a small business and family here, but he can stay until the storm calms down and the uranium mission becomes history.
He buys a postcard and mails it to Pete’s address. Bradley doesn’t write anything on the card aside from the date, well knowing that Pete will understand. Pete can send the hounds after Bradley after receiving that card – not that it’s an actual concern for Bradley, not anymore. He’s not surprised when the days pass after sending the card and no police show when he’s in the city; no US Navy ship appears on the sea in an attempt to intercept the Island Gypsy and arrest Bradley.
Days are so similar to each other here that he has a hard time keeping track of them. In the beginning he comes back to one of the marinas at night, but as time goes by and Bradley becomes more accustomed to the boat and the local waters, sometimes he stays in the open water in the dark. The bay is rich in fish and he has a small stove on board and so he can roam the sea as long as he has diesel and fresh water loaded up. Somewhat to his surprise he comes across American expats that live here and despite his initial reluctance he makes friends with them.
He has no direct connection with his real friends in the country he left behind. He misses the place, the people, even the horrible traffic and the crazy honking of impatient drivers around the bazaar district on weekday afternoons. Bradley has no regrets; he believes that his service there made the world a better place, but now that there’s a distance between him and his recent past, he starts entertaining the idea that his part in the war may be over. He’d go back without thinking, had they called him – but Bradley finds that he’s more motivated by his loyalty to his friends and comrades than by political sentiment.
The sea around his boat is deep blue, like on the postcards on the beach. Bradley can’t look at it without remembering Pete and the time they spent together in that little cell. Bradley laughed at him for the sappy idea of himself living at this place; but he isn’t laughing anymore. For all those years he cherished this idea of the golden age, a time long gone – a fantasy of Pete. Then, most unexpectedly, Pete came back in his life, pushing the limits, maneuvering in deep canyons, throwing his own life away to protect strangers. It is now, after so much violence and suffering, caused by his own obsession that Bradley can see things for what they really are. It is now that he chooses to disappear for a while in order to save Pete’s life; the same way Bradley was willing to die for the right cause, he’s now willing to live in exile to keep the dream alive.
Bradley looks at the land in the distance and then back toward the horizon. It’s not his dream and so he’s not content; when he’s talking to the other Americans on their boats he’s not trying to make deep connections and when in town he’s not looking for places suitable for a family. But it’s a dream nevertheless and more than that: Pete’s dream for him. Bradley looks around and he finds that he’s at a safe place to anchor for the night. Tomorrow would be another day and at one point in the near future Bradley would have to make a decision as to which way to go from here. Until then, this is a good place to stay.
III.
The kid is standing next to the car with a puzzled expression on his face. Pete is staring back at him, clutching onto the stack of mail in his hands. For a moment it occurs to him how he looks now; probably like a lunatic, hanging onto a grocery store coupon book, afraid that somebody may steal it from him.
“Hey,” Pete says. “Did you get a new car?”
Jake’s looking at him, dumbfounded.
“Are you…,” he starts. “Alright?”
“Sure,” Pete replies. The kid doesn’t say anything, apparently shocked by his disheveled appearance. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I sent a message? Because you’re not answering your phone?”
They are standing there, staring at each other. It’s his fault, Pete thinks, for not being straightforward from the beginning.
“You didn’t have to come back,” he says. “It’s been fun, but you don’t owe me with your time.”
Jake takes off his baseball cap, runs a hand through his hair and then turns back at Pete.
“Fine,” he says. “I didn’t come back because I owe you.”
Pete’s holding onto his mail, as if for dear life.
“Oh,” he says. “Okay.”
Instead of spending the day as planned, with sleeping, chasing ghosts and then passing out from hunger, Pete now has to call the clinic to see if they have an open spot for him that afternoon. They do, so Pete leaves the stack of mail on the workbench without having time to further think about the postcard. Jake wants to stop by at the diner for a quick lunch before the doctor. Pete pretends that he doesn’t have a hard time finishing the small bowl of soup he ends up ordering, but he does feel better after the meal. The appointment at the clinic goes well and it is dark outside by the time they get back to the hangar.
It’s then, when Pete’s finally alone that he looks at the postcard again. He knows that it is from Bradley; Pete didn’t recognize the handwriting earlier, because the text on the card is written in all capitals. Pete’s overwhelmed by the implications. The card means that Bradley left the rogue state and subsequently he’s no longer a threat to his homeland; and that he’s chosen to let Pete know about it. Pete’s holding the card in his hands and he can’t help, but tears up over it. He so often imagined the kid at some nice, far place, away from the troubles and seeing this card now is something straight out of a dream for Pete. A dream and more, he realizes it that night when it occurs to him: that after everything that happened, this, knowing that Bradley’s gone means that Pete can justify not giving him away. He doesn’t have to live in terror over what the kid’s next plan against his homeland would be – he can start letting Bradley go.
Jake shows up in the morning and they go out. It’s similar to how things were a few weeks before and yet entirely different with an added sense of freedom. The day is then cut short when heavy rain starts somewhat unexpectedly and they return to the hangar. Jake slams the sliding door shut from the inside, laughing and Pete throws a towel at him so that he can dry himself after running from the car in the downpour. Pete turns on the small portable heater next to the sofa and the place becomes more hospitable in a few minutes. He goes to hang up his jacket and as he passes by the workbench the postcard catches his eye. Pete goes there, picks it up and looks at it for long, before pinning it to the wall to the empty spot, where the photo of the Bradshaws used to be.
Pete turns around and he sees that Jake is looking at him curiously from the sofa. The structure is loud from the rain banging on the roof and the light is scarce. Pete goes to the sofa and Jake pulls to the side to make room for him. Pete sits down; he can see Jake moving slowly and when Pete doesn’t protest, the kid puts his arm around his shoulders. Pete kicks off his shoes and he curls up, leaning to Jake’s side. That’s how they start, Pete figures, before he closes his eyes.