The dark room seemed suffocating. The longer he sat there, the heavier his chest felt and the harder it became to make his lungs inflate at a necessary rate. He continued to stare at the comms radio, long after the crash. Long after all the other pilots had left the room. They tried to get him to leave as well, but he was stuck.
Frozen.
Waiting for some sort of news. He knew the radio had gone black for a reason, but every fiber of his being was holding out for some sort of crackle. Static. Anything to let him know she was ok. He kept replaying the last few seconds of transmission over and over in his mind. Bob yelling about fire. Phoenix fighting her plane, trying to extinguish the fire and control it. Maverick yelling "eject". This noise continued to ring into the dark. It was like a horrible case of Déjà vu.
Rooster met Phoenix in flight school. She was an academy graduate, just like most of the others. Less than a week into school and she had proven herself calm, rational, smart, and above all, razor sharp. She had a smirk that could stop traffic, an understated sense of humor you never saw coming, and instincts that made most of her male counterparts jealous. But not Rooster. He wasn't jealous. He was impressed. He had never met a woman so in tune with herself, so self-assured. Phoenix was the whole package and then some. He spent the entirety of their time in school and training afterwards in complete awe of her, both as a person and as a pilot. She was firm but friendly, kind but just, and she could hang with the guys without anything being awkward.
He would never forget their first day of flight training after the six weeks of classroom work had finished. Phoenix rounded the corner into the hangar in her flight suit and gear and he fell. Rooster was a lost cause for her. But there's that unwritten, unspoken rule. Pilots don't date. They don't become a thing. It's hard to stare death in the face, day after day, with the person you sleep with every night flying the 32,000-pound death trap next to you.
After two years of training, they were stationed together for a while. Then they attended Top Gun at the same time. He couldn't get enough of her. They became good friends. Close, but not too close. He liked what they had. It was quiet but confident. He would feel from afar but never cross that line. Then, he was PCS'd. The Navy moved him to Japan and he had to leave her.
Their last night before he left, they sat in silence on the deck of her apartment in China Lake, drinking beers and not saying much. He wanted to hold her, tell her what he felt. But, just like his inability to commit behind the stick of his plane, he found himself saying goodbye without telling her anything other than "I'll be seeing ya".
This lack of commitment was hanging heavy over his brow when the door opened, and a figure walked in. It certainly wasn't the person he wanted to see, but if Maverick had news, he'd listen. Begrudgingly.
"They'll keep Phoenix and Bob overnight for observation. They're gonna be okay." Maverick says gently.
Rooster wanted to jump from his perch on the arm of the couch and shout his praises to the heavens. He wanted to laugh, cry, or hit something. Someone. That was tempting at the moment with Maverick standing so close. But he just hung his head with a sigh of relief and then responded, "That's good."
He contemplated his next words briefly, knowing it could lead the conversation somewhere he really didn't want to go. He and Mav shared a history that was painful when it came to this particular subject. "I've never lost a wingman before."
Mav replied immediately. "You're lucky. Fly long enough, it'll happen. There will be others."
There it was. The thing Mav could say to set him off. This wasn't about Phoenix and Bob now. This was about his Dad. He knew better than to start down this path, and yet he let himself slip and Mav just waltzed right into it without hesitation.
"Easy for you to say. No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn you when you burn in." He glanced over at the aging pilot as he spoke and he froze in his tracks. Good old man. Let that sink in. You don't get to feel flippant about the things you've done to me.
"Go home. Just get some sleep."
Maverick started for the door but there was no way in hell Rooster was going to let it go now. No turning back.
"Why'd you pull my papers at the Academy? Why did you STAND in my way?" He shouted, too loud, at Mavericks back. Superior officer be damned. He deserved a real answer.
"You weren't ready."
"Ready for what? Huh? Ready to fly like you?" He advanced on Maverick in the dark.
"No. Ready to forget the book. Trust your instincts. Don't think, just do. You think up there, you're dead Believe me." Maverick spit as he turned to face the seething young man in the dark.
His mind raced, and the words fell out of his mouth so coolly "My dad believed in you." He could tell he hit Maverick where it hurt. "I'm not going to make the same mistake." They stood, staring at each other. Roosters anger boiling quietly through his eyes to a dismayed Maverick. He hurt his father figure where it counted. And at that moment, he wasn't the least bit sorry.
Before Maverick could respond, Warlock opened the door and called him away. Rooster was left standing in the dark, the heat of his anger radiating off his body. He turned to look at the lights of the tarmac outside, the lights of home. Those lights always meant he was where he felt the most at home. The closest to the dad he barely remembered. They always comforted him even on his hardest days.
After a few long, calming breaths he snapped out of his angered trance, grabbed his Bronco keys, and almost sprinted for the door. He had to get to the hospital. He had to see her.
The drive across base to the small hospital was quiet and he was ushered to her room after a brief wait in the lobby. It was late so not much activity in the hallways and the cracked door to her room let out no light.
Shit.
He didn't want to disturb her. But the huge tugging sensation behind his navel was so strong. He needed to see her. Just to make sure she was, in fact, ok. Not just physically. He needed to know that her solid resolve was still intact. Because unbeknownst to her, he relied on her steadiness to keep his own level head.
After a few moments of staring at her door, he decided a peek wouldn't hurt. He placed his hand on the door and gently pushed, peeking his eyes around the door frame. In the dark there was a faint light from the bed. Phoenix looked up over her phone in the dark and smirked that smirk that melted him the first time he saw it.
"Hey" came a raspy, struggling voice.
"Hey yourself" he said, continuing to stand in the doorway.
"Are you just going to stand there holding the door up or come in and talk to me?" she said, coughing and wincing as she sat up more in the bed.
He pushed the door open enough to slip in and walked to a chair on the opposite side of her bed, taking a seat as she placed her phone on the little table beside her.
"I guess my call sign gained all new meaning today, huh?" she smiled at him.
He realized up to that point that all he had been doing was staring at her. Rooster cleared his throat, chuckled, and spoke barely above a whisper "How are you?"
She quirked an eyebrow "Well I've had better days but I can mark slamming my plane into the side of a mountain off my bucket list." He felt sick and did not reciprocate her humor. She must have sensed his uneasiness because her eyebrow lowered and he realized from his lower peripheral that her hand had reached out from the bed, beckoning his.
Rooster looked down, staring at her hand, and eventually decided this was ok. He reached up his hands and took hers in both of his. She was clammy and his hands felt so warm on hers.
She looked down at their hands then up to his face. When their eyes met, she spoke again. "I'm fine. Really."
He lowered his eyes again, watching his thumb trace lines across the back of her hand. He didn't even register he was doing this for a very long time as they sat in companionable silence. Suddenly the panic set in. Alarms like the dash of his plane began to ring out through his mind. This isn't ok. He shouldn't be this close, this intimate, with her. He decided that was enough.
Rooster slowly slipped his hands off of hers and stood. Just for a moment he thought her face showed disappointment as she stared at her hand, looking empty without his large warm hands on hers.
"Maybe I should be going. Let you rest."
She opened her mouth to say something but stopped. Choosing a single nod of her head in agreement instead.
His hands slipped into his jean pockets as he whispered, "Gimme a call if you need anything. You get out tomorrow, right?"
Her blank face met his and she nodded again.
"Ok well, maybe I'll stop by your quarters tomorrow, check in on ya?"
Her lips curved into a sad sort of smile. "Ok"
As he walked across the room her quiet voice rang out "You bring the beer. I'll bring the cue stick."
He smiled as he remembered the sucker punch he took to the gut at the back end of her pool stick when he first arrived in town for this mission. She didn't know he was coming and was probably a little irritated he hadn't called, he reckoned. He looked slightly over his shoulder and whispered back "Deal" then ghosted out of the room.
"Ice is dead?" Rooster couldn't believe the words as they fell in disbelief from his mouth.
He had no sooner walked through the main door of the pilot quarters on base when a distraught looking Payback met him in the hallway. He could see most of the pilots and WSO's for their special mission were sitting around in the common room at the end of the hall, some crying, some staring at the wall in silence. That's when the fellow pilot dropped this bomb on him. He knew the Admiral had been sick before, but had no idea something like this was coming.
His mind wandered to Warlock interrupting his rift with Maverick earlier and now knew why. He almost felt bad about their forceful run in. Almost.
Rooster walked past Payback and instead of joining his cohorts in the common area at the end of the hall he turned to his right and headed up the stairs to his room. As soon as he was through the threshold of his quarters, he slammed the door shut. His back came to rest on the door and then he slid down until he was sitting on the floor, his elbows on his knees, hands running through his hair.
The tears came barreling from their ducts like a missile from his jet and there was fuck all he could do to stop it. Today was a bad day. The pressure of the mission. The near loss of not only Bob but the woman he wanted to be so close to yet couldn't. His blow up with Maverick. Then the loss of someone he had looked up to since he was young.
Iceman wasn't particularly close to Bradley. Not like Maverick had been. But he sent birthday gifts and checked in on him with his own wife and kids occasionally. His mom even made a road trip with Bradley when he was in junior high to spend a weekend at the Kazansky home. He remembered this trip fondly because he received his first kiss from the Admirals slightly older daughter.
Iceman called to congratulate him when he commissioned and when he completed flight school. Ice told him many stories of his dad over the years and he would forever be grateful for those stories. Rooster hadn't spoken to him in a very long time, and now he never could again. His heart felt like it was ripping from his chest.
As his sobs subsided he realized that Phoenix probably didn't know this development. He glanced over at his bedside clock. 10:35PM. Maybe she would still be awake?
Rooster picked his phone up from the floor where it landed as he slid down the door and decided to text her.
Hey. You awake?
He stared at the illuminated screen as the three little dots appeared at the bottom.
Well, I am now dickhead.
He choked on his chuckle and contemplated his next message.
Have you heard?
The dots appeared again quickly followed by one word: Yes.
He sighed and raised his head to look at the ceiling, watching the fan make slow circles. What he wouldn't give to be drawing those slow circles on her hand again right about now.
His phone buzzed again, and he looked down to see another message from Phoenix.
I'm sorry. I know he was important to you.
Yes. Yes, he was. And so was Maverick. And so was his dad. And so was she.
And yet it was all so fucked up.
He wanted to say something but decided he couldn't trust himself in this moment. He kicked his shoes off, pulled his shirt over his head, crawled across the floor to his bed, and his eyes slammed shut as soon as his head hit the pillow. He needed the world to shut up for a little while. And it did.
The next morning came way too soon. A knock at Roosters door jolted him from his deep, dark slumber. He rolled over in his bed and practically fell out, shielding his eyes from the sunlight beaming through his blinds. He felt hungover. No. He felt downright drunk. Grief does strange things to the human body, even worse sometimes than the G's he pulled in his plane.
There was another knock at the door and he checked the clock on the bedside table. 7:15AM
His flight wasn't supposed to be until later so who the hell was waking him this fucking early?
When another, more insistent knock came, he hollered "Just a damn minute" and headed to the door, still in nothing but his jeans from the night before.
As he swung the door open and let out an exasperated huff, the smirk on the other side of the door brought him up short and sobered him up quick. Through his fog he saw her standing there in her PT shorts and a Naval academy t-shirt, hair pulled back in a loose, low ponytail, and flip flops on her feet. In the daylight he could see a few bruises on her face, neck, and legs and a tiny cut above her left eyebrow. He must have been staring for too long because her eyebrow quired and the smirk turned to a small smile.
"Morning sunshine. You should try answering your phone." She sauntered past him into the room and stopped to look around. At that moment he wondered what sort of dirty laundry he had lying about but chose to ignore the embarrassing thought.
As he shut the door and turned to face her, he said lazily "Sure, come on in. You DO know what time it is, right?" Then he walked over to where his phone lay on his bed and glanced at the three missed calls from Phoenix and one from Payback.
"It's 7:15 in the morning, you're already out?" he asked, not looking up from his bed.
He felt her eyes on him but chose to continue looking absently at his phone. He had suddenly realized there was a tingle between his legs and the familiar waning of a morning woody. He needed to concentrate on anything but her eyes on his shirtless body at that very moment.
She replied, still smirking. "Good behavior. So, how are you? I'm sorry about Admiral Kazansky."
He looked up at her with a sorrowful look and muttered "Thanks." Before looking at the window across from him.
Phoenix moved, rather slowly and with effort, to sit in a small arm chair on the wall opposite Roosters bed. Realization that she must be very sore reached his core and he took two steps across his room to help her. Placing his right arm around her shoulders he reached his left hand across and placed it on her waist to steady her. She stopped and swayed and his grip at her waist tightened. She glanced down at his hand then up at his chocolate eyes.
Rooster was lost momentarily in her face, drowning in her beautiful eyes, and that sinful smirk. Then he realized this was the closest they had ever been physically and he became flustered.
"Uh, sorry. You seemed a little unsteady."
"Being fired out of your plane and the massive jolt of the harness digging into your body as your chute explodes open then landing on the side of a mountain will do that to you." She smiled a half hearted smile and began to walk. He held her all the way to the chair and she sat unceremoniously with a little bit of a grunt.
"Sounds like fun."
"I don't recommend it."
Her eyes were on him again. He turned and walked to the small en suite bathroom, realizing his breath must reek. He prepped the toothbrush and placed it in his mouth then walked back to the door way of the bathroom. She had her head resting against the back of the chair, her eyes closed, her breathing slightly labored. She seemed so peaceful. That fiery woman kept at bay by the pain, and most likely pain meds. She must have sensed him watching her, because one eye slowly opened to look back at him.
"Funeral is tomorrow. 3PM at Miramar National. We have to be in blues downstairs at 1:30 to catch a van to the cemetery." She opened both eyes now and watched him carefully.
Rooster continued to brush his teeth while leaning on the bathroom door frame. He merely nodded his head in recognition then returned to the sink to rinse and spit. Suddenly a thought crossed his mind and he returned to the door. "It's early morning, you just got out of the hospital, how do you know all of this!?"
She chuckled lightly and gave him a smug look "You never downloaded the Group Me app did you?"
Confusion crossing his face, he picked up his phone off the bed again, unlocked it, and opened the Group Me app. There it was, a notice from Cyclone almost word for word of what Phoenix had just said. He crossed to her perch, turned the phone to face her, and made a smug face at her.
"I'm so proud of you."
"Yeah, I'm proud of me too". He returned the phone to the bed, turned to face her and asked "So, why are you here? Shouldn't you be resting?"
"I'm hiding. I didn't want everyone knocking on my door and bothering me today. I'm off flight status until after the funeral tomorrow evening. Taking first hop out next morning. Figured this would be the right place to hide." She smiled an almost wicked smile and his heart faltered.
He thought over her words for a moment then offered up his bed so she could lie down instead. She agreed and he stood to help her again.
"I can walk the 4 feet to your bed ya know?"
He put his hands up in feigned defense and chortled "Pardon me ma'm".
She shot him a dirty look as she carefully lowered herself onto his bed, bringing her head to rest on his pillow. There it was again, His heart faltered.
Before his mind could get too carried away he turned to the small set of drawers behind him next to the chair and pulled out a dark navy blue tshirt. Once over his head and resting snuggly on his body he moved to the side of the bed and knelt in front of her where she lay on her side.
"You hungry?"
"I could eat. I could use some coffee too."
"I supposed I could handle that. Eggs, bacon, and some fruit? Coffee black?"
She smiled up at him. This time the smile was less a smirk and seemed more, sweet.
"Look at you being all chivalrous." She brought her hand up to brush some of his hair off of his forehead. "Yes, that sounds perfect. Thank you."
He wasn't sure what came over him, but he reached up meeting his hand to hears, pulled it in, and kissed the back of her hand very lightly. His mustache tickled the back of her hand, and her eyes met him, wide. All of a sudden, he felt like a fish in a very small bowl. Why did he do that? Was she ok with it? It felt right but he didn't know if it was a kosher thing to do. His heart was pounding, and she was just staring at him.
He dropped her hand, stumbled to his feet, and mumbled as him slid his tennis shoes on "I'll be back, get some rest." And then he was gone, without looking back to see the warmed expression on Phoenix blushing face.
Rooster was gone way longer than he intended to be. After making the quick jog across the street to their designated dining facility he ran into half the squadron. All of them wanted to stop and offer condolences. He made for the start of the line, grabbing a to-go container, but Payback, Fanboy, and Coyote followed him. They were asking if he had seen Phoenix and Bob yet? Did he see the funeral information? Why was he taking his food to go?
He tried to be as vague, and as quick as possible. The conversation lasted at least 10 minutes, maybe more. Finally, Hangman walked in and Rooster was NOT in the mood for his shit this morning. When Hangman called out to Coyote as he sat at the table with the others, Rooster saw his out. He turned quickly and moved down the line to where hot food waited. He loaded the container with enough food for both Phoenix and him then moved to the coffee stand on the opposite side of the food line. He filled two large cups with coffee then, placing them on top of the to-go box, turned and bid them farewell. He practically sprinted out the door, leaving the rest of the pilots and WSO's looking after him with confusion and some concern.
When Rooster reached the landing at the top of the dwelling stairs, he realized his hands were full and he couldn't reach his keys in his back pocket. Then he realized he was being watched. From across the hall Bob had appeared out of his room and was walking towards the pilot.
"Need some help?"
Rooster hesitated. "Ahhh yeah. Do you mind holding this so I can get my keys."
Bob slowly reached out and took the coffees from the top of the box. Rooster was trying to stay cool, hoping Bob wouldn't ask why he had two coffee cups. He reached into his pocket with his right hand while his left still held the box of hot food. Then he unlocked the door, opened it with the same hand, and attempted to slip inside without opening the door too wide. He didn't need her WSO seeing this. What would he think? Would he tell?
Rooster sat the box of food down on a small table he kept his keys on next to his door then reached very carefully with one arm through the barely opened door to get first one cup, then the other, from Bob.
He hadn't noticed the grin on Bob's face through all of this hurried interaction. When the last cup was handed off, he looked up to say thanks but Bob beat him to the punch.
"I know she's in there."
Rooster was brought up short. He flashed his eyes to the sleeping figure in his bed then back to Bob, stunned but unsure what to say.
"We talk. It's cool. I'm glad she's getting some rest." Then he turned to head back across the hall his room, moving gingerly much like Phoenix had moved earlier in his room.
"Hey man. I'm glad you're ok. Thanks for the help."
Bob didn't turn but merely held a hand up in response before disappearing into his room and closing the door.
FUCK.
Bob has never seemed like the gossiping type but this scared the shit out of Rooster. He was already on edge just by having her here. Now the man across the hall, her back seater, also knew. Did anyone else know? Maybe someone saw her come in this morning? Did she tell anyone else?
The most important question suddenly flashing through his head like a bright set of headlights coming straight for him: Does she care that anyone else knows shes in here?
Realizing he still had a cup of coffee in his hand and the door ajar, he nudged it close with his elbow and turned to place the coffee on a TV tray next to the chair Phoenix had occupied earlier. He moved next to the bed to check on her. She was breathing deeply and steadily. Good. She didn't hear the interaction at the door. He turned to grab the food box and sit. The next half hour he mindlessly chewed on food and drank his coffee while watching her sleep peacefully. This was nice, he thought.
Rooster was reading over one of the mission handouts he had tossed next to the chair when he heard a rustle from his bed. She had been asleep for just shy of two hours. He glanced up without moving and his eyes were met with her groggy gaze.
"Where's my food?" She asked through a haze.
"Right here" he said as he nodded his head to the side towards the box on the TV tray, never taking his eyes off of her. "But it might be a little cold now."
"How long have I been out?" She started to push herself up to a sitting position on the bed, but visibly winced with pain while doing so.
Rooster rose and grabbed the plate of food "Couple of hours. I got your coffee too. But, its probably cold too."
"I don't care. I just need sustenance. Gotta have something with my meds. Hey, can you grab them. There's a little bottle in my duffle."
She had dropped a small bag on the floor when she first entered his room. He hadn't thought much about it and now it seemed like he was going to be trespassing into forbidden territory. He moved to the end of the bed where the bag was and bent down to unzip it. Her rolled up flight uniform was crammed in there and on top of it was a small medication bottle. He pulled it out, walked back to the side of the bed and handed it to her.
"Need some water?"
"Sure." She said as she dug into her eggs and bacon.
He grabbed a bottle of water from a package under the bed and handed it to her. Then he sat back on the floor next to the bed and watched her eat. She finally broke the silence after a few bites of food, swigs of coffee, and tossing back her tiny white pill.
"It's going to suck tomorrow. I can't take any more pain meds after today so I can be flight ready. Funeral. Pain. Fun."
He nodded his head but didn't say anything. He was too mesmerized by the way she bit tenderly into the side of the plum he had brought her. His mind began to wander, wising his mouth was on the other end of that tender bite. He watched her mouth chew slowly before swallowing, in turn causing him to swallow the lump that had grown in his throat. Who knew a piece of fruit could be so enticing?
She ate her fill then closed the box, taking another swig of her coffee then setting both on the bedside table. She stretched her arms carefully, first to the side, then over her head. She winced when her arms reached their highest level and he sat up to one knee quicky, asking "You ok?"
Arms still over head she turned her head slightly and cocked her eyebrow "Nothing that'll last long. But thanks for asking." Then she brought both arms down, her right coming to rest in her lap, the left brushing lightly across his check and coming to rest on his jaw. The tension between them seemed to send electric currants through every fiber of his body, from the spot where her hand rest to the tip of his toes. They sat in this position for what seemed like an eternity, just staring at each other. Her face went from sweet to sad in an instant.
Then her hand was gone.
She was moving to stand on the other side of the bed. He stood too but didn't move. Just watched her. She walked to the end of the bed and started to bend down to get her bag. About halfway into said squat though, she started to lose her balance. As she her wobbling became more intense, she reached a hand out to the end of the bed to steady herself. Instead, a large, strong hand grabbed hers while another muscular arm reached under her other arm and came to rest around her waist, lifting her back up.
Suddenly they were face to face. Mere inches apart, his arm pulling her close to him. Time simply stopped. Their eyes searched the others and his arm tightened around her waist. They just stood there, holding on and watching the other for a reaction. His mind was screaming at him to stop, this wasn't right. He may have wanted her bad but there was no way it could work and this wasn't ok. This was going too far.
Before he could find any words to say, her lips came to rest on his cheek, then pulled away. "Thank you, for taking good care of me."
Rooster said nothing. His mind was too busy gasping for air. He just knew she could hear his heart pounding out of his chest. While still holding his other hand, she stepped back to free herself from the arm around her waist, bent over to get her bag, then stood to face him again. She squeezed his hand, turned around, and slowly exited without a look back or another word.
He just stood there, mouth slack, completely shocked at the morning he just had. He needed to go back to bed. Or take a cold shower. Or both.