A Loner Mentalist Pt 01 1

Disclaimer: This is a story that is very low on the smut scale. Also, the protagonist isn't perfect and is struggling to find his way around some supernatural powers, though he does have good and noble intentions. Hope you enjoy it and check my user profile for updates on sequels!

Edited by Over_Red

Whether you like, hate, or are left indifferent by this story, I strongly recommend you read his Dream Drive series, right here, on Literotica.

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Jack Watts stood nervously in the dining room doorway. His father was sitting at the table and reading the paper. It was his first day of shore leave. Jack's mother had told him not to bother his father with anything, but Jack just couldn't hold it in any longer. It had been brewing since the last time his father was home on shore leave. As much as Jack wanted to speak up about it, he was afraid. He hadn't been this nervous ever since his first day in middle school.

Jack's dad's posting to the aircraft carrier had happened in the summer and the family, consisting of Jack and his parents, had moved to this town, which was basically built around the naval base the carrier called home port. Nervous over how Jack was going to fit in with the new crowd, Jack's mother had spent hours fretting and trying to make everything perfect. She had doled out one piece of advice after the next and fed Jack with so many admonishments that she had managed to make Jack nervous like he had never been before. He hadn't even realized he desperately needed to go to the bathroom until they had actually gotten to school and were waiting for the principal to see them.

Jack's mother had scolded him quietly, calling him a troublemaker, and refused to let him go to the bathroom. He had sat and waited, while the urge grew ever stronger, and then had to keep sitting while the principal welcomed him and then spoke with his mother. After their talk was finally over, Jack hadn't gotten a respite. He had been escorted straight into the classroom, where the teacher had refused to excuse Jack to go to the bathroom, citing the fact that he had just come in. Not one grown up had listened to him that day and Jack had wound up peeing himself in class. He was a laughing stock amongst his peers, ever since.

The same kind of anxiety that had prevented him from speaking up soon enough, or loud enough, then was gripping him now. His mother had nothing to do with it this time. That incident and his mother's stupid refusal to let him go to the bathroom had taught him to ignore pretty much everything that came out of her mouth. It had also taught him that grown ups can be ridiculously stupid at times. But this was different. This was his father and Jack dreaded the thought of disappointing him.

Jack wiped the palms of his sweaty hands against his pants and cleared his throat quietly. He took a step forward and said, "Dad?"

His father looked up from the papers. "Yeah, Son?"

"I, uh... I need to tell you something."

His father set the paper down on the table and pulled out a chair. He indicated it and said, "Well, come on! Sit down and tell me what's on your mind!"

Jack took the offered seat and cleared his throat again. "I, uh, I think that... I've been thinking about the things that you were saying to me about... Duty and honor and... Service and I think that, while I do respect all that you've been saying to me... I think that I would rather be a basketball player, than a sailor."

Jack looked up and met his father's eyes, expecting to see disappointment, or scorn, in them. Instead, his father was pensive for a moment. Then a small grin grew on his face. Jack thought he could see a light twinkle in his father's eyes. He sounded happy as he asked, "Are you sure about that, Jack?"

Jack nodded vehemently. "Yes."

"You'd like to be a basketball player?" Jack nodded again. "And you'd be willing to put in the time and effort to train and become better, each and every day?"

"Yes, I would," Jack said. "Honest!"

His father smiled and reached over to ruffle his short, brown hair. Normally, Jack didn't like it when people messed with his hair, but his father was away at sea for most of the year and Jack was desperate to spend time with him whenever he was home. He gladly endured the hair mussing.

His father put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. His smile slowly faded. "You're twelve years old, Jack. Pretty soon, you won't be a boy anymore. You'll be a young man." Jack watched the smile fade from his father's lips and something else replaced it. His father opened his mouth to say something, but Jack's mother walked in at that moment.

"Come on, Bert," she said, "We are going to be late!" She turned to Jack and said, "And it's about time you were in bed!"

Jack rolled his eyes at the interruption. His father was home so rarely and half the time he was, his mother was dragging him off to spend an evening with these people, or those. Jack hated her for it. He hated her even more now, because he was having the most important talk of his life with his father and she was dragging him off to play cards with the neighbors.

"Coming, dear," his father called back to her. He turned back to Jack and said, "Listen, Jack, I've got an important meeting tomorrow. I want you to come with me. We'll finish this little talk then, alright?"

"Alright," Jack said.

"There's a good boy! Now, go upstairs and get to bed!"

"Yes, Sir," Jack said. He went upstairs. The one good thing about living on a naval base was that nobody bothered to hire babysitters for older kids. After they had moved here, his parents had decided that he was old enough to be on his own and that had made leaving all his friends behind a bit more tolerable.

The next day, Jack's father took him to the cemetery. Jack had been expecting his father's important appointment to be in some kind of an office building, not a graveyard, especially since his father put on his dress uniform, complete with medals. They walked silently amongst the headstones for a few minutes, before Jack's dad stopped them. He crouched by Jack and said, "Jack, I need you to wait for me here. Ok? Just for a few minutes."

Jack looked around at the tombstones. He had no idea what they were doing there, but he trusted his father. "Ok, Dad."

"I'll wave when you can come over," his father said and stood up straight.

Jack stood still and watched as his father marched down a row of graves. He wasn't the least bit afraid that his dad was going to leave him there, but he felt uneasy, all the same. His dad stopped in front of a grave and mechanically pivoted to face it. He saluted sharply.

Jack watched curiously as his father stood at attention in front of the grave. He could just about hear that his father was speaking aloud, but he was too far to be able to make out the words. It sounded to him like his father was making a report to a superior officer. He scanned the graveyard all around them. There was absolutely no one in sight. Jack spent a few minutes reading the names on the gravestones around him, but they weren't all that interesting. Standing around in a graveyard was quite boring so Jack started wondering if his dad might be engaging in some kind of espionage operation. He let himself entertain such a notion, if only to pass the time.

Jack was so engrossed in his spy fantasy that he must have missed his father's wave. He flinched when he heard his father call to him. He gave a big wave for him to come over. Jack lurched forward but then quickly remembered it was impolite to run in a graveyard, so he forced himself to walk over to his father. As he got closer, he read the grave marker his father had been seemingly speaking to. It belonged to a dead naval officer whose name had been Jack White. Jack was surprised to see that the man had died fourteen years ago to the day.

His father put his hands on Jack's shoulders and drew him close to himself. He turned Jack around to face the grave he had been talking to and said, "This is my son, Sir." Jack's brow immediately bunched up as he could see that the rank of the officer buried before them had been lieutenant junior grade. His father was a lieutenant and had had lieutenants junior grade saluting him for a few years now. Jack didn't know why his father was addressing the grave with the respect that was usually reserved for flag officers. "I named him after You, Sir. I think he's old enough for me to tell him all about You, Sir."

Jack's dad knelt before him and looked him in the eye. "Jack, this is the grave of the man I named you after. Back when I had just finished the academy and got my first posting, this man saved my life and the lives of eight other men. If he hadn't done that, then I would have died. I would never have married your mother and you would never have been born at all."

Jack looked over his father's shoulder at the simple grave marker in awe. He couldn't even imagine never being born at all. His father described the shipboard accident that threatened all of their lives and made the young lieutenant's selfless sacrifice necessary, but the specifics of naval engineering went over Jack's head, so he only focused on the part of the story where one man sacrificed himself for nine others. Jack was shocked to learn that his whole life was predicated on one man's selfless act and he tried to imagine what it had been like.

His father snapped him out of his reverie when he said, "Do you understand why I have brought you here today?"

Jack looked into his father's eyes and said, "Yes. You wanted me to see this man's grave. You wanted to tell me about how he saved your life."

His father nodded and said, "Yes, but I also wanted to show you that there are such things as individual heroes. That one man can be more than just himself." He nodded at the grave. "Jack's body might be lying dead in this grave, but he is still alive. He lives on in the nine of us and everything we do counts as if he had done it, because if he hadn't done what he had done, then none of us would be around to do it. Everything that you'll ever do, you'll do because of his sacrifice.

"Now, I know that I've been badgering you with the constant talk about how individual people are weak, and how they can gain power by banding together in service of the common good. This is true. It has been true throughout history and it will be true for as long as there are people, but I'm wondering if I've somehow made you feel like... Like a single person's actions can't make a change for the better, or that an individual has to ignore his own needs and serve the greater good?"

Jack realized his dad was waiting for an answer, so he shook his head no.

"Because one man can always make a difference, Jack. Even with the little things. We can never know what the future brings us and how we will be tested, or when. No one knew that bolt would fail like that. The lieutenant didn't know he would have to take immediate action that day to save the lives of others. He hadn't gotten out of his rack that morning knowing he would be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice. He had carried duty and honor in his heart and when the darkness came, he was the light of salvation for the nine of us.

"Only when we are put to the test, Jack, only then we can find out just how much we can accomplish. As long as a person holds duty and honor in their heart, they can change the world for the better. Even on their own. What I'm trying to say, Jack, is that you don't need to join the Navy to be a good man. Ok? I'm sorry if I made you think that you had to. Whatever you choose to do, I'll like it, so long as you choose to do it. In your heart. Do you understand me, Jack?"

His father's voice was breaking with those words and tears were starting to slide down his cheeks. Jack was feeling uncomfortable seeing his father cry so he nodded. His father tapped his fist against his chest. "So long as you put all your heart in what you do, you'll do good. You'll do me proud."

His father pulled Jack into a tight hug. Jack returned it, looking at the grave marker of his namesake. After a while, his father broke their hug, sniffed and said, "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you had to do things you didn't want to do. I only told you those things over and over because I just wanted you to get along better with the kids at school. I wanted to motivate you to join them and have some fun. It hurts my heart to hear that you have no friends."

"Sorry," Jack simply said. He didn't know what else to say. He himself wished he had friends, but the peeing on his first day thing was simply too much of a hurdle to clear.

"Well, it's not your fault."

No, it's Mom's

, Jack thought. He made no sound.

His dad ruffled his hair and smiled. "Things will get better, you'll see! You can come upon the chance to make a friend even in the most unexpected of circumstances. The lieutenant, here, became my friend by pure chance. We shared a cabin aboard ship because our names were next to one other in the crew roster."

He looked up at the grave marker and a tear slid down his cheek. "He's the one that taught me what duty and honor really mean." He looked into Jack's eyes. "You remember the lessons I taught you about them?"

Uneasy with his father's tears, Jack quickly nodded and said, "To carry duty in your heart means to spend each day of your life working towards the greater good. To carry honor in your heart means to never let a wrong go by unopposed."

"Yes," Jack's dad said and smiled. "Yes, that's it in a nutshell." He patted Jack on the shoulder. "Good man!" Jack stood up straighter at being called a man, instead of a boy. His father checked his watch. "Come on! We should be getting home." He stood up, faced the grave and stood at attention. He saluted sharply. "Goodbye, Sir!"

They walked out of the cemetery. "Dad?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Will you tell me about him?"

"Of course. The first thing you should know about Jack was that he loved basketball." Jack looked up at his father in surprise. "Yes, he did. A poster of Michael Jordan was taped up above his rack. Jack looked up to Jordan. He was his role model with his tenacity and devotion. Especially when he made his comeback. You see, Jack, even an NBA star can change the world for the better, by inspiring others with his performances."

They came to the car and his dad walked around it to open the trunk. "Besides, even if you don't become the best there ever was, I'd certainly love to see you play." He tossed Jack a brand new basketball. Jack caught it and smiled wide. It was a big, round, orange ball of fatherly love. He rushed into his father's embrace.

"Thanks, Dad!"

"Just promise me you'll have fun!"

"I will, Dad! You're the best!"

They drove away and Jack cast one last look back at the graveyard. The wind kicked up the fallen leaves, making them look like they were waving goodbye. Jack waggled his fingers and then faced front when their car turned the corner.

After his father left for his ship again, Jack took the ball out for a spin. He bounced it happily against the pavement all the way until he came to the basketball court in the park. A bunch of kids were standing under one of the baskets, looking like their parade had been rained on. They turned their eyes to the sound of Jack's ball bouncing and he felt uncomfortable at the looks they were giving him. As he moved to the other hoop, he saw the problem. Their ball was wedged between the backboard and the side of the hoop.

"Hey," Jack called out to them, "do you want to try and knock it loose with my ball?"

The kids nodded and Jack tossed the ball to them. They all tried to knock their ball loose, but it was jammed in too tightly and none of them could do it. When Jack walked all the way over to them, he saw that he was older, taller and stronger than them, so he gave it a few tries, himself.

"How did you jam it in so tightly?"

"We didn't," one of the kids snapped. "It was the Navy brats!"

Jack realized why he didn't know these kids. They were townies, the children of civilian parents. The feud between them and the children of Navy personnel was long standing and one of the first things Jack's classmates instructed him in upon his arrival. Even though they mocked him and considered him the lowest of them, the other Navy brats still expected him to toe the line and hate the townies. Even the middle school grouped Navy children and civilian kids separately, since they learned long ago that minimal contact between the groups kept things quiet inside the school grounds.

Outside the school grounds, however, a war was raging, unseen by the oblivious grown-ups. Clean clothes and bikes were the casualties of that war. Spokes were bent with anything that could be found on short notice. Brakes were disabled and bells stolen as a matter of course. Knocking a kid over into the dirt and grass was a feat that brought kids greater standing in the eyes of their group, so they patiently staked out any mud hole they could find. Waiting for a lone member of the opposing side to wander close to it.

Jack considered the whole thing to be distasteful and wrong. Even if he hadn't been dumped on by the other brats, he would take no part in it. In the "war" between the brats and the townies, he couldn't figure out which side was the injured party, so he had stayed out of it. He would have told on the kids, long ago, but both sides detested snitches and would unite against them, so Jack kept quiet.

He had been curious about the mysterious townies ever since he had first got there and now was his chance to make friends with some of them. "They can't be any worse than the brats," he told himself.

"The big one picked it up in one hand," one of the kids said, gesturing at the ball, "jumped up and wedged it in there. We'll never get it loose. We need to go get a parent."

The kids looked unhappy with the suggestion. "If I tell my mom that the Navy brats had been picking on me again, she'll lock me up for my own safety," one of the kids morosely said.

"You don't need a parent," Jack said. "You can knock it loose on your own."

"How? Do you know where we can get a stick that long?"

"Without any grown-ups seeing us get it," another kid said.

"You can just pick up one of the dead branches from the green over there," Jack said.

"We tried that already," the first kid said and pointed at a couple of dry branches not far from the court. "The branches aren't long enough to reach!"

"Not on their own," Jack said.

"Maybe we could tape them together," one of the kids said. The kids looked between themselves as they thought about whose garage they could find tape in.

"I have a different idea," Jack said. "If the five of you stand in a circle and hold your hands on the shoulders of the two guys opposite you and we put some of your coats over your arms, then he can climb atop them and reach the ball with a stick."

The thin boy Jack indicated looked very unhappy with the idea, but the rest of the boys agreed with it. Jack positioned them in the circle and intertwined their arms to distribute the sixth boy's weight evenly between them. After he tossed some coats atop their arms, he had them squat and he helped the sixth boy climb up. They stood up and the boy could now reach the ball with the stick. He whacked it repeatedly, but it still refused to be budged. The kids began to groan under the strain.

"Ok, guys," Jack said, "different approach! Jam the stick into the very corner between the hoop and the backboard! Further in than the ball is wedged!"

"I tried that already," the scrawny kid complained. "It won't budge!"

"Just jam it in and hold it there," Jack said to him. "Ok, the rest of you are going to take one step that way." He indicated the direction opposite of the ball. "Hold the stick steady! On three! One, two, three!"