Hi :) We haven't met before, at least not in this category. So hi!

And.. yeah, I know, I know. it's cruel to start a new story before finishing the very last chapter of another. but... I watched top gun like, six times this weekend :D and got it on itunes so I can watch is a zillion times over. and my god, how could it not have ended with Mav with Ice? It should NOT have been Mav/Charlie! it was so obvious. come on! and I just re-watched it again, all the way through, and man, Ice is a jerk at the end. I'm convinced there was SUBTEXT. obvioussslllyyyy.

disclaimer: see, I always put these. I honestly don't know why. I mean, really, what's the point? whatever. I don't own top gun. (come on, how could I? I wasn't even alive when it was released) and I don't own Mav (and, well, that' be pretty nice if I did.) and I don't own Ice (now that, that I would really like. next bf should look like that. shouldn't be too hard. IMHO, ice looks classic CA. i'll have no trouble.)

And I swear there are only like, four students' names given. So I took the liberty of making some up, if you guys don't mind.

So this starts right after Goose dies. Just to give ya time frame.

Enjoy!

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It had been manageable before. Miserable, tense, anxiety-inducing, but manageable. Admittedly, minable because he forced it to be, the type he had to strong arm up against the wall and hold there until it stopped breathing, because he wasn't going to allow this to screw with his head, but at least before, it had been manageable. Unpleasant. But nothing he couldn't handle.

But this was fucking agony.

Iceman leaned against the coolness of the plane, one arm up over his head, forehead against the metal. He drew in a breath, tried not to look. It was making him sick, but damned if he'd let anyone else know what was going on. Logically, he knew beating himself up about it wasn't going to help any- logic? his mind sneered, what was that?- but it was involuntary. He'd always had damaging defenses. Letting his guard down would have been the ultimate surrender, because no matter what he was feeling now, that would have felt worse. For now, in this singular moment, he wasn't going to fall apart.

For this moment, anyways.

"Ice-" Slider started in, tentative with concern, but Ice tensed up at the voice.

"Don't even fucking start with me." Ice was practically snarling- that slip of emotion would never happen again, he swore it, but hadn't he said that last time?- "Not now."

Maverick, stalking by after snarling at his temporary RIO and shaking the poor man into a dazed stupor, stared straight at them. That something could break through his seemingly permanent daze was startling, but then again, there was a reason the pilot was called Iceman and not Hothead. His lash of burning temper was equivalent to Maverick's humbleness.

"Fine" Slider's voice was tight, "Not now. But you know what, Ice? It's gonna have to be sometime."

Ice drew in a breath, fist clenched, fought against showing it. What good would it do, showing anything? The reasoning had served him for all these years, suited him well, and sure, he appeared... emotionless, at times, but what was the benefit of being emotional?

"Not necessarily."

"No," Slider was glaring at him, but Ice wasn't going to meet his gaze; he was hyper-aware of both Maverick and his temp RIO staring at them from further down the runway. Both had been so easily distracted from their own near-brawl, Ice hated it. "You fly this fucked-up, and someone's gonna die. Eventually, it's not gonna be about just you."

"Yeah?" Icy tones that had always, always hidden everything, and it had been such a savior, at least until the ice had started to melt, but, consequences be damned, he wasn't going to let go of that coveted stoicism, "It never was."

Maverick stared as Iceman swept by him, but said nothing as usual. The outburst had snapped Maverick out of his half-gone state, and he watched as Ice stormed back into the building, Slider standing mutely by the plane.

"What the hell's up with him?" Anonymous RIO Number Three was at Maverick's side- he didn't know the man's name, he didn't even want to, because, really, what did it matter if the man wasn't Goose?- muttering half to himself, knowing Maverick probably wasn't listening anyways.

"Who knows?" Maverick shook his head, ignoring ARN3's startled look when Maverick acknowledge his existence, "it's the season for issues."

"Funny, and here I was thinking it was spring" ARN3 joked, but Maverick was already gone again.

Within the next hour, though, everything had fled from his mind- from ARN3's failure to replace the irreplaceable to Iceman's uncharacteristically heated behavior- and all that was left was dread.

Charlie was beautiful, and he had the presence of mind to tell her that when he picked her up at her doorstep.

Not tonight, that voice in his mind murmured- he would never know if it was mercy or cowardice- maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. For all he knew, he'd be saying that every night for the next- how long was he going to drag this out? For tonight, he was going to kiss her and try to forget.

But he'd never been much good at forgetting.

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Class dragged on slowly, and Iceman, already tightly wound up beforehand, felt tense with a jumpy sort of energy that was wearing down on his restraint. Running on zero hours of sleep certainly hadn't helped matters much, either; all he had left was that raw, taut energy that was doing more harm than good.

Chalk squeaked against the board; Ice spun a pen between his fingers, tight, short motions, betraying that tense energy. Beside him, Slider was arching an eyebrow, watching this single show of anxiety.

"-as we can see from this diagram, this maneuver will allow greater-"

Something about inverted somethingsomethingsomething. Ice was pretty sure passing out before the lecture was finished would be a despicable breach of protocol or something; he tried not to think on how pathetic it was, that this fact was the only thing holding him to consciousness. I'm sure I'll be able to sleep tonight, he thought vaguely, just like he'd done every day for the past week. But every time he closed his eyes, he was faced with the thing he hadn't been able to see coming. At the time, he'd never thought it could happen, never even thought to fear it, and now, now it was all he thought about. What he saw changed. He was just waiting for it to get so unbearable that it would steal the rest of his sanity. Maybe then, he would finally get some sleep. Peace of mind might come at a price, but he was starting to see it as a bargain.

Slider leaned towards him, arm around the back of his chair as always, voice soft.

"You okay..?"

Half shrug, quick glance, convincing enough that Slider leaned back, gaze returning to the board.

Maverick wanted to choke ARN4- Anonymous RIO Number Four- because the man wouldn't shut up. They were farther back in the room, so the instructor couldn't hear ANRF's running commentary. The instructor was going over something they'd all heard before, beacuse the dolt in the front row had decided to challenge him on it, springing a tired lecture.

"-and if he thinks we're all gonna jump into the cockpit like happy little fishies and try this, he's crazy, because I could do that before I could walk-"

"Fish can't jump." Maverick's gaze wandered across the rows before them. One row ahead, Merlin was beating Sundown at hangman, even though the word was clearly "runway".

"Sure they can. You know, I think I remember hearing about these fish that live in trees."

Wolfman was quite possibly asleep, and Hollywood had a permanent pen in hand, hovering over Wolf's neck. Next row over, ARN1 was staring at the clock. Up in front, ARN2 was the smart-mouth that had caused the whole stupid lecture.

"Fish don't live in trees."

Rio was playing Ro-Sham-Bo with Scorch. Slider had his arm slung over Ice's chair, and was staring up at the ceiling. Maverick looked, but he didn't see anything interesting up there.

"These do. I swear someone told me that once. I was in seventh grade, on this hike thing, and the leader person said so."

Ice was spinning a pen between his fingers, and suffering the consequences of not sleeping all night. Maverick only knew this because he'd accidentally been eavesdropping on Slider's interrogation of Ice. The RIO had his work cut out for him; it must have been like coaxing information out of a brick wall, but worse.

"Why would a fish want to live in a tree?"

"Maybe the view's nicer. Way up in the sky and all?"

"Yeah, but all the other fish are in the water."

Next desk- Maverick looked away.

He didn't want to see where Goose should have been.

"Maybe these fish can't swim."

"Shut up."

After class was when Maverick had an easier time of distracting himself. The rec room was a new addition, and competition for the TV channel was in full swing, particularly because it was Autumn, when football, hockey, baseball and basketball collided.

"IT'S THE GODDAMN PLAYOFFS!" Scorch's voice; apparently, he and Slider had lost and were missing the baseball game.

"Opening kickoff. Fuck off." Sundown, Rio and Wolfman, Maverick was surprised to see, had managed to hold their own in the face of the others; usually, Maverick himself was one of the fighters to watch football, but lately, his heart hadn't been in it, leaving his fellow football fans to fend for themselves. Merlin was quietly sulking about missing basketball, as he frequently did, being the only diehard basketball fan present. Maverick was, however, surprised that hockey hadn't won out; usually Ice and Hollywood put up a good fight, much sneakier than the baseball boys' temper tantrum approach. Sprinting to the rec room and hiding the remote had a way of working out really, really effectively.

Maverick leaned on the back of the couch, trying to focus his attention enough to figure out who they were watching, as Hollywood stalked by.

"Leaving so soon?" he tossed at Hollywood, who made a face at him.

"If it ain't hockey, I ain't watching. Ice was no fuckin' help at getting the channel." The reason why Ice had been so worthless to the cause became apparent when Maverick glanced down and saw that Ice was sprawled on the couch, dead asleep. Seemed like strange behavior for the untouchable Iceman. How he could sleep was a mystery to Maverick, because Rio and Sundown were sitting on the edge of the couch, screaming and cheering like the maniacs they were, jumping up and pumping their fists into the air every time their team did well. Goose's favorite team was playing. Maverick did his best to not think about him, choosing instead to channel his pain into being a jerk, an effortless pursuit.

"I'd say get a room," he said, swatting at Ice's shoulder, "but it's pathetic if you're sleepin' alone." Ice groaned and turned his face into his sleeve.

"Just fuck off, Maverick."

Maverick was stunned into momentary silence by the sheer venom in the words, but he wasn't going to think about it much. No one said ice couldn't be made of frozen poison, after all.

"You're an asshole, Mav." Slider informed him unnecessarily, turning around to address him. "you missed taking bets, too."

"I'm not really watching anyways." The hand Slider trailed down Ice's arm didn't escape Maverick's notice, but he couldn't really be bothered to wonder what the hell was up between the pilot and his RIO. "Worried I'm huntin' your property?" Wolfish grin that was harder to find nowadays. Slider flipped him off and shot him a glare. "Territorial, man."

"Why don't you go screw your way into getting an A plus in class, 'stead of hanging around here?" Slider sneered, but before Maverick could snap back, Ice did it for him, a mumbled, irritated snarl.

"Isweartofuckinggodifyoudon'tshutup-" at least, that was what Maverick thought he heard. It was hard to tell. Slider rolled his eyes.

"You're a real jerk when you're tired, you know that Ice?" Slider rubbed Ice's shoulder and Ice just groaned and said nothing.

Maverick walked away, muttering, "and you said I was weird..."

Slider didn't have the inclination to tell him that, in all honesty, Ice was winning the acting-out-of-character competition, too.

"Huh." Wolfman took the seat vacated by Rio and Sundown; they were too busy dancing around cheering themselves hoarse to sit. "I always thought Ice was a vampire. Guess I was wrong."

"'M not a fuckin' vanmpire." Ice snapped. "You're crazy, Wolf."

"Admittedly, he does sleep." Slider shrugged a shoulder. "I can testify for that." Wolf arched an eyebrow, something like a sneer on his face.

"Yeah, I'll bet you can."

Maybe someone was putting venom in the water at Top Gun.

Or maybe it was just an epidemic.

xxxxxxx

Despite valiant efforts, Maverick felt like he'd lost before he'd even begun. The far-too vivid memory of Goose had followed him on the date with Charlie, singing that song in his ear and Charlie, for some inexplicable reason, hadn't noticed a thing. From eleven to one AM, she'd kept up a steady stream of talk, because she'd been offered a desk job in Washington DC and was debating, back and forth and back and forth, about whether to take it.

Maverick couldn't exactly remember what he'd advised. Dropping her off at home, he remembered a goodbye kiss and something about telling her she should do what she wanted, and he just hoped to God he'd worded it in a kind, sympathetic manner. All he could remember with clarity was that the entire time, memories of Goose had been replaying in his mind, haunting and reeling and circling around again and again, and through that haze, it was hard to recall anything else that had happened. He was walking along the marina on the way back; some lapse in judgment had let him agree to Charlie driving them to the restaurant, leaving him without a ride on the way back to the dorm buildings, but it wasn't terribly cold that morning, nor was it a long walk home, so he wasn't going to complain.

Besides, who did he have to complain to? Ghosts haunting his mind couldn't hear him.

Since Goose's death, Maverick hadn't had a single moment that wasn't haunted by his memory. Guilt and grief clashed together in a storm of misery, until he wasn't sure who he was anymore, didn't know why he did what he did, couldn't even tell what to do now.

Halfway back, Maverick came to the conclusion that it wasn't normal, that he had no adverse reaction to Charlie's job offer. For some reason, the idea of Charlie moving across the entire country didn't have much of a striking effect. Grief had, it seemed, robbed him of every other emotion. Left him with burning grief and turned everything else to ice.

The ocean was a dark, endless stretch on his right, beyond the railing and beyond the beach below, until it melded with the black sky and lost visibility. Maverick had passed very few people on the way back- a few partiers stumbling home, one over-achiever out jogging- and hadn't expected to run into anyone he knew. It took him several moments before he realized Ice was a few yards from him, leaning on the railing and looking out at the darkness that was the sky or the ocean.

"Insomnia much?" His voice made Ice almost flinch, but Ice brushed that off almost instantly, giving a noncommittal shrug. He glanced Maverick over for a moment, eyes that weren't the arctic blue Maverick thought they should be, then away.

"I'm not gonna lose tomorrow," self-assured, like he'd perfected the art of flying while exhausted, "if that's what you're hoping for."

What was he hoping for? Hell if Maverick himself knew. He jammed his hands deeper in his pockets, frowning at Ice. "Just don't get yourself killed up there later."

"Yeah? It'd give you a shot at the trophy." Before Maverick could so much as form a response, Ice had tossed a last cool look at him and gone. It was just like him- almost. Just a beat off. A shade too hesitant, a hint too tightly wound. For a moment, Maverick felt bad about chasing Ice away from his early-morning haunt, but the feeling passed, and he started back too.

Lost for anything else to do, Ice found himself lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and not sleeping. He was reluctant to try, lest he return to the same unconscious place he'd been before. Last time had been a new form, he'd seen the results, and he'd never seen it as something so tangible before. He'd seen himself in that court room, dressed in his white uniform, standing straight, measured voices telling him what he already knew, at fault at fault at fault.

Ice hated that nightmares were ruining him, but was powerless to change what was happening.

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Well, hope everyone liked that. Sorry it was so short..

Review, please!! I'd love it :)

love ya,

Sunshine