This was written for the prompt Worked Themselves To Exhaustion from my Bad Things Happen Bingo Card on Tumblr.
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Their new mission was a tough one, maybe even tougher than the bombing of the uranium enrichment facility.

It included an extremely difficult route to fly, full of circumstances and obstacles to keep in mind, such as enemy bases, air defence missiles, tree tops and other structures that could be flown into. Combined with the low altitude and higher than normal speed they would need, it turned out to be a near impossible mission to master.

Maverick and the team of younger fighter pilots were training for nearly three weeks now, and, so far, no one had yet been able to fly the required route without 'crashing' their jet. Not even Maverick himself.

Hangman found it all extremely frustrating. Even though they had five months to train, considerably longer than their last mission together, it nagged at him that no one had been able to fly it yet. Most of all, that he hadn't been able to fly it yet.
Never before had Hangman been this affected by a mission. It kept him up at night, stressed him out during the day, and eventually led to him pulling all-nighters to cram as many mission-details into his head as he possibly could.

Tonight, he once again sat in Top Gun's communal kitchen well past midnight.
All the aviators stayed in dorm-like rooms at the academy, with this living room-like kitchen being a sort of common room for them.

Hangman had chosen to sit here so as not to wake up his roommate during this stay.
He was roomed up with Rooster, something, he suspected, Maverick had done on purpose to have the two of them get on better terms a bit. Their previous mission had definitely laid a base of acceptance and respect between the two of them as aviators, but this stay as roommates together made that Hangman had to admit he actually started to appreciate Rooster as a person.

Hangman sat at the large dining table in the kitchen. Maps, charts, mission specifics and jet manuals all lay strewn across the table and on the floor surrounding his chair.
Even though he had trouble keeping his exhausted mind focused, he willed himself to keep reading everything there was, and try and remember every twist, turn and obstacle of the route they would need to fly.
For three nights in a row he had gone by on a maximum of an hour and a half of sleep, and if it was up to him, he wasn't going to get much more tonight.
Even if he slept, it was an uneasy slumber that didn't do much to get him any sort of rest. The symptoms of his fatigue already showed, but he refused to give into them.

His flying had been absolutely abysmal today. Deep down Hangman knew that was undoubtedly caused by his extreme lack of sleep, but he didn't admit to that. He was Hangman after all: he was good, very good, and wasn't brought down by something as trivial as lack of sleep.
Still, there had been a very close call today, in which he nearly crashed his F18 into a hillside for real. Something like that had never happened to him before, and his weakened reflexes must have played a large part in that.

Now that he sat here, for the fourth night in a row hard on his way to pull an all-nighter, Hangman felt himself start to spin out of control. A distinct tremble had started in his hands, and he couldn't get it to stop. He was sweating, even though it was quite cool here in the kitchen, and whenever he moved his head, the room swam around him.
Hangman was faintly aware he was crossing every line he had, but was so obsessed with making this mission work, that he didn't even care. He would sleep or rest when he mastered this mission, but until that time he allowed himself nothing.

"What are you doing?"
Hangman was startled by Rooster suddenly standing behind him. He hadn't heard his fellow-aviator come in at all.
"Studying," Hangman answered curtly.
Rooster frowned at all the paperwork strewn across the kitchen. "Why?"
Hangman ran a trembling hand through his hair. "I need to make this mission work. I have to be able to fly it."

Rooster mulled that over for a second, as something started to dawn on him.
"How long has this been going on?" He asked suspiciously. "Come to think of it: I woke up yesterday in the middle of the night, and you weren't in our room. I figured you might have gone to the bathroom, and I fell asleep again quickly. But now I'm starting to think you were 'studying' as well."
"I was." Hangman admitted instantly. "Fourth night in a row, and I still can't do it." He growled in frustration, slamming his fists into the tabletop.

Rooster raised an eyebrow in surprise, sitting himself down on a chair on the opposite side of the table. "Aren't you a bit harsh on yourself? I mean, even Mav hasn't flown this thing yet."
Hangman vigorously shook his head, looking slightly deranged as he did so. "Then I'll be the one to do it."
Rooster took a deep, slow breath. He could see the situation exactly for what it was: this mission had become an obsession for Hangman, and definitely not in a good way.

"Okay, you've got to stop this," Rooster intervened. "This isn't healthy anymore."
"No, I've got to finish this," Hangman snapped. He looked absolutely disheveled now and on the edge of a nervous breakdown. "And I'm fine, by the way."
Rooster scoffed, but spoke calmly. "Yeah, well, try telling me that without your hands shaking."
"Rooster," Hangman growled, "you really need to…"

Hangman fell silent mid-sentence. Suddenly the room spun around him. Cold sweats broke out all over his body, and there was the distinct feeling of losing control over himself.
He got to his feet as a feeling of panic spread through him, but that probably was the dumbest move he could have made. Immediately, the room spun even more and his vision darkened. And before he knew it, he slumped to the floor and blacked out completely.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Rooster muttered urgently. There was not much he could do to prevent Hangman from going crashing to the floor. He couldn't say he was surprised to see this happen, though. Hangman had worked himself into exhaustion in his obsession over this mission, and now paid the price for it.

Rooster ran around the table, dropping to his knees beside Hangman. They had their differences, sure, but in this case of emergency, Rooster didn't hesitate to offer his help.
He immediately pressed his fingers to Hangman's neck to feel for a heartbeat, and was relieved to feel the rhythmic thumping of the vein.

Rooster knew he needed some assistance, but with everyone sleeping that wasn't the easiest thing to arrange at the moment.
"Help!" He called out at the top of his lungs. "Need some help over here!"
Rooster wasn't keen on leaving Hangman alone right now, especially with his fellow-aviator still out cold, so he just wished someone would be woken up by his cries for help.

Rooster turned his attention back to Hangman. He lightly tapped Hangman's cheek in an attempt to bring him back to consciousness, but was not able to rouse him.
As his basic medical training had taught him, Rooster carefully turned Hangman onto his side, closely monitoring his condition until he would wake up again or until help would arrive.

The sound of barefoot, running footsteps coming down the corridor that led to the communal kitchen announced someone had heard Rooster's cries for help.
A few seconds later, Maverick came to a skidding stop in the doorway.

"What happened?" Maverick looked horror-struck from the papers strewn everywhere, to the clearly unconscious Hangman lying on the floor and Rooster kneeling next to him. "Did you guys fight?"
"No," Rooster answered quickly, "he passed out, because he's barely slept for four days. This mission has become an obsession for him, Mav."

Maverick blew out a deep breath. He had noticed something was off with Hangman, especially today, but hadn't been able to lay a finger on it. And now he knew…
"That near crash today was probably no innocent mistake either?" Maverick frowned.
Rooster shook his head. "I don't think so. Fatigue must have compromised his concentration and reflexes. He shouldn't have been flying today."
"That's a conversation I will have with him some other time." The concern was evident in Maverick's voice. "Let's get him off the floor first."

Almost as if he had heard those words, Hangman groaned softly and stirred. It took a few seconds for him to open his eyes, but finally he looked ahead, still dazed.
"What happened?" He mumbled weakly, "why am I on the floor?"
Rooster scoffed. "Because you're an idiot, and decided to work yourself into exhaustion."
Maverick held up a hand to silence Rooster, quietly signalling this was not the time nor the place for a reprimand.

Hangman sluggishly blinked a few times, before he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.
"Slowly, take it easy." Maverick was ready to catch Hangman in case he would go down again.
"I'm okay," Hangman mumbled, passing a hand over his face. "Bit dizzy, still, though."
'We can call one of the doctors in, if you want to?" Rooster suggested.
"No, it's alright," Hangman answered softly, "if you guys would be so kind as to help me back to bed. I think I just need to sleep this off."
"I'll agree to that for now," Maverick agreed somewhat reluctantly, "because it's the middle of the night, and you do need rest, but tomorrow you're seeing a doctor, just to be sure. And that is happening whether you like it or not."
Hangman nodded, accepting defeat. "Okay."

Maverick and Rooster helped Hangman to his feet. He needed a lot of support, but leaning on both his fellow aviators, Hangman finally managed to stand.
"You good?' Maverick asked, worried. Hangman looked anything but steady on his feet, and it wouldn't be surprising if he collapsed again at any given moment.
"I can make it," Hangman answered through clenched jaws. He wasn't quite sure if he indeed would be able to make it back to his and Rooster's room, but he was way too damn proud to be carried back there.
Rooster could see right through him, but didn't mention it. "At your tempo."

Hangman took a tentative step forward. He knew he had done all of this to himself, but he didn't quite trust the strength of his own legs. To his relief, he found that he could walk, albeit slowly and somewhat unsteadily.

Getting back to their bedroom took a while. Hangman needed to stop a few times along the way and seemed in constant danger of collapsing again.
He had to admit he was completely spent by the time they had reached the bedroom. Just this short walk had drained him of the little strength and energy he had left.

Maverick and Rooster helped Hangman lie down on the bed. He didn't even bother to change his clothes, that was how tired he felt.
Hangman pulled the sheets up to his chin and rolled himself onto his side, facing the wall next to his bed, and back turned to Rooster and Maverick. The consequences of what he had done suddenly weighed down hard on him. He felt so ashamed that he had let himself get this obsessed with their mission, and had allowed himself to spiral completely out of control. He now sure paid a price for it, because he felt like utter shit. Both mentally and physically he had exhausted himself.

Hangman heard Maverick and Rooster converse behind him in hushed voices. He couldn't quite make out what was being said, but about a minute later he heard footsteps, a door open and close, and then silence. Hangman instinctively knew he was now alone with Rooster once again.

"Thanks for checking in on me," Hangman mumbled just loud enough for Rooster to hear.
He was well aware that if Rooster hadn't decided to come look for him tonight, things might have been a lot worse. And if things hadn't turned out the way they had tonight, he sure would have stepped into his F18 tomorrow, and quite possibly crashed and killed himself for real.

After a short moment of silence, Rooster answered. "Anytime. Just promise me never to do anything like that ever again."
"I sure won't," Hangman agreed without hesitation. He closed his eyes and felt his body grow heavy. It took only a minute before Hangman had fallen into a deep sleep.

Hangman slowly awoke. He didn't move and remained lying with his eyes closed. His bed was still way too comfortable, and he could still feel the fatigue in his bones, so he wasn't really planning on getting up anytime soon.
The rustling sound of a page being turned made Hangman realise that he wasn't alone in the room. He slowly opened his eyes now to look over his shoulder, and found Rooster sitting on the other bed.

"Welcome back." Rooster spoke without looking up from the file he was reading.
Hangman slowly rolled himself onto his back, sleepily rubbing his eyes. "How long was I asleep?"
Rooster checked his watch. "About 20 hours."
"Come again?" Hangman was astounded to hear that number. He had expected it to be a few hours, not almost an entire day.
"You even slept through the doctor examining you this afternoon," Rooster commented airily, still not looking up from the page he was reading. "He thinks you'll be fine, by the way. Nothing a few days of absolute rest won't cure."
Hangman nodded slowly. "And you have been sitting here all day?"
"We took turns," Rooster answered, finally meeting Hangman's eye. "But since I sleep here, too, I got the night shift."
"So someone has been sitting here all day to watch me sleep?" Hangman frowned.
Rooster gave him a stern look in return. "You collapsed, remember?"
"Actually, I don't remember much of it." Hangman slowly sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. "The last few days are a bit of a blur, to be honest."
"I wonder how that came to be," Rooster replied sarcastically.
"I know I did this all to myself," Hangman slowly shook his head, "and trust me when I say I feel guilty as hell about it."

A short while of silence was finally broken by Rooster. "You scared the shit out of me, you know that? I honestly thought you were a goner there for a moment."
Hangman chuckled wryly. "You? Concerned for me?"
"Yes." Rooster snapped back, maybe a little harsher than he meant to. "So what?"
"I– I'm sorry…" Hangman stammered. He realised that his airy response did not go down well with Rooster, and he couldn't quite blame him for it.

Rooster threw the file he was reading on the floor beside his bed.
"No, I'm sorry," he admitted with a hefty sigh, "I know we're not necessarily what you would call friends, but seeing you go down like that… it had an impact on me."
Hangman knew this was a lot coming from Rooster, which made him appreciate it even more. "Thank you, that actually means a lot."
Rooster shifted a little uncomfortably on his bed. "And I'm glad you're okay."
"Well," Hangman chuckled, "I assume Maverick will still want that talk with me tomorrow. So after I survive that, then I'll really be okay."
"Yeah, good luck with that." Rooster commented sarcastically, "he sounded ready to skin you alive."
"As he should." Hangman lay back down. "I deserve every second of that, but first I'm going to have a whole night of sleep, cause I'm still tired as hell."
Rooster nodded in agreement. "If you need anything, I'm here."
"Thanks, buddy." Hangman already had his eyes closed.

Rooster watched his fellow-aviator silently drift off to sleep again, and felt the stress and worry of the day finally start to lessen. Yesterday's events had scared him shitless, but he was glad to see Hangman was on the mend again.
Rooster lay down as well, casting one final glance at Hangman already fast asleep, before switching off the lights in their room. "Sleep tight."