The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|

-4-

We're set to leave tomorrow morning.  No questions asked.  Pack lightly, if at all.  We'll have everything we need at Fort Monmouth, the basic training camp we're being shipped off to.  It begins with an introduction to our drill sergeant, and then it all spirals downhill from there.

The fear has started to make me feel numb.

Mikey hasn't uttered a single word since his draft number was called.  His skin has lost all its color.  His hair is a mess.  Even the spark in his eyes has diminished.  He doesn't look like my upbeat, collected baby brother at all, and it's almost scaring me more than the thought of marching straight into death itself.

There's a bus scheduled to take us to Fort Monmouth in the morning.  We'll pick up anyone else in town who volunteered or had their number drawn, and along the way, if there are any others needing a ride, we'll be there to get them.  It's going to be a small bus full of sweaty, terrified young men joining the very fight that is, without a doubt, going to be the death of us.

The goodbye is the worst part.  Our mother hasn't stopped crying since Mikey was drafted and I volunteered in my blind panic.  I even see our father shed a tear, but as per usual, he turns away to hide it.  He always has to be the tough one around here.

"We'll be all right, Ma,"  Mikey says at the station the morning we're set to leave.  Those are the first words I've heard his soft voice say in a long while.  "You don't have to worry about us."

"But that's my job,"  she replies.  Her smile is sad, a desolate glimmer in her tearful gaze.  "I wish you both didn't have to go.  It'll be so lonely around here."

"I know."  I can barely hear Mikey anymore.  "Can't ignore the rules, though.  I have to go, and Gerard's gonna be there, too.  We'll take care of each other."

For a fleeting moment, I fear that this is the end of our conversation.  No one else speaks.  Our mother dries her tears.  Our father clenches his jaw, wraps his arms around his torso.  Mikey kicks at a loose pebble on the ground, completely silent.  The bus is bound to be rolling into the station at any second, and we've hardly said our proper goodbyes.

Then Mikey takes a deep breath, and he pulls a heart-shaped locket on a silver chain out of his pocket.

A new wave of tears streams from our mother's eyes as Mikey clips the locket around her neck.  Her hands tremble, and for a moment, I'm worried she's going to faint.  I never knew that Mikey had bought the necklace, but God, am I grateful he did.  What did we ever do to deserve someone as sweet as him in our family?

"You said you wanted to keep us with you forever,"  Mikey murmurs.  He steps back, returning to my side, his voice quivering with every word he says.  "Now you can, every single day, until we come back."

Our mother opens the locket, tears spilling down her cheeks as she gazes at the two photos tucked inside.  A picture of Mikey on the left, a picture of me on the right.  Both of us are smiling, and we look happy, content with our lives; I only hope that the joy we radiate in those photos gives our mother peace when she remembers we're out at war.

I hear the bus rumbling down the street.  The unmistakable scent of exhaust permeates the brisk air, and our ride to training camp arrives at the station.  I never realized how much I was dreading this moment until it happened.

Our mother pulls Mikey and me in for a tight embrace.  Her grip is deathlike, her entire body trembling against us, and finally, after all these days of uncertainty and fear, everything inside me comes crashing down in a fiery explosion.

My tears set Mikey off, too, until the three of us are shaking and sobbing in each other's arms.  I don't care that everyone at the station is staring, pointing, making faces.  Mikey and I have never strayed from home, from our mother, and now we're marching off to a different continent.  I don't care that I'm breaking down in public.  What else are we supposed to do?