Natasha woke on her side facing Bob's bed. The curtain was open. Bob had his hospital bed in the upright position so he was sitting up. His normally slicked back hair was falling in golden waves across his forehead as his head bowed over a well-thumbed paperback copy of The Fellowship of the Ring.
He snored softly.
"Bob. Hey, Bob," she croaked. It was then she noticed the earbuds. She turned her head and, seeing a box of tissues on the nightstand beside the bed, she picked it up and lobbed it at him.
Bob started violently, sending his book to the floor. The poor man looked a little disoriented at first and then his eyes locked on Phoenix. He squinted and then blinked owlishly at her.
"Phoenix, you're awake! Oh, thank God!" He scrambled out of bed and made his way over to her, rolling his portable IV along.
When he reached her side he reached out and swept back the loose hair from off her forehead to expose the gauze square taped to it. His blonde brows furrowed.
"How're you feelin'?"
Natasha swallowed. "Parched. Pass me that water," she answered huskily.
"Oh! O-of course." Bob blushed and let go of her hair. He fumbled briefly with the glass and pitcher, but managed to pour the water.
Natasha hissed with discomfort as she tried to twist around to look for her bed controls.
"Oh! Here, I got it." Bob immediately put the glass back down on the nightstand and, finding the controls, pressed the up button.
The mechanism whirred as she was brought to a sitting up position. Phoenix murmured her thanks and again as he handed her the glass and took long, grateful sips.
"I feel like I've been hit by a train," she sighed when she drained the cup.
Bob took the cup from her hands, refilled it and handed it back to her with a rueful smile. "Not far off."
"No kidding." Natasha gave him a small smile. She wasn't used to being fussed over or waited on and she'd normally object, but she let Bob do it.
Natasha looked Floyd over. Around the collar of the blue rim Academy shirt he was using as a pajama top she could just see bruising where the G-forces pressed the harness straps down into flesh. Natasha knew she would have a mirror image of that on her own skin.
"How are you feeling?" She asked quietly as a sense of guilt gnawed at her.
"Same."
"Where are your glasses?"
"Pulverized. I got a spare pair back in my room to wear in the meantime."
Natasha was slowly beginning to remember the minutes before she passed out. That one blue eye looking at her through the cracked lens while the other was closed.
She studied Bob again. Those round, intelligent baby blues were shyly regarding her in return.
"You have nice eyes," she found herself blurting out.
Bob blinked at her for a moment and then made a show of studying her IV bag.
"Gosh, what kind of painkillers do they have you on?"
Natasha rolled her eyes and gave him a wry smile. "Stop it. If you can't take a simple compliment, forget I said anything."
Bob self-consciously touched the bridge of his nose to push up the glasses he no longer had. She smiled as she watched him realize what he was doing.
There was a sudden, soft knock on the door.
"Come in."
Captain Mitchell poked his ruggedly handsome head into the room.
"How are you guys feeling?" He asked gently.
They both gave the older man vanilla answers of "okay" and "fine".
"You don't sound fine. Why the long faces? You're both alive and whole." When the pair guiltily avoided his gaze Maverick crossed his arms. "A plane is replaceable," he said firmly. "Good pilots and WSO's, not so much."
"And what about bad ones?" Bob murmured bitterly. Maverick frowned at him.
"Meaning you, I assume?"
"Well, of course not Phoenix, she's amazing."
He said it so easily and matter-of-factly. Natasha dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap. Now who couldn't take a compliment?
"I should've seen them coming on the radar."
Natasha's head popped back up. Captain Mitchell opened his mouth to reply but she cut in. "Bob … it all happened so fast, and we were all still a bit rattled by what almost happened to Coyote. Even Maverick didn't notice them."
"That's no excuse. I should've stayed focused."
"Even if you had spotted them," Maverick said, "at your rate of speed you would've been hard pressed to avoid them."
Natasha watched as Bob's gaze drifted to the wall and she knew he was running the calculations in his head. A random rush of fondness for her WSO warmed her chest. She chalked it up to still-running high emotions after surviving their near-death experience.
Bob groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands. "I know, I know. You're right. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I don't know what's wrong with me …"
The older man put both of his hands—callused from years of Navy life—on Bob's young shoulders.
"Hey. You two have just experienced a pilot's worst nightmare and you walked away relatively unscathed, it's understandable to be a little shaken up. It could've turned out much worse, believe me."
Bob saw the plea and the pain in the older man's eyes.
"Do you think they'll take us off the mission?" Natasha asked in a small voice. The haunted look left Maverick's face and was replaced by his usual easy grin. He let go of Bob and sauntered over to Natasha.
"If they're going to yell at anyone over this, it'll be me." He took in Natasha's concerned look and gave her a reassuring wink and a grin. "Don't worry. I'm used to it."
Maverick picked up Natasha's chart and glanced over it. "Have they said what time they're discharging you?"
"It should be soon," Bob answered, buckling his watch to his wrist.
Another knock at the room door. Natasha perked up. Was that jerk Rooster coming at last?
Her heart couldn't drop low enough when, of all people, Jake strolled in.
He nodded at Maverick. "Sir."
Maverick gave him a polite smile. "Lieutenant." He then turned back to the patients. "I'll see you two back at the hangar." With that, he left the room.
"There's no florist on base so these'll have to do." Jake tossed them each a candy bar.
Bob looked at his. Baby Ruth.
"You're a riot, Hangman," he said sarcastically.
Jake flashed him a grin. "I thought you'd like that."
Phoenix turned the Dove dark chocolate bar over in her hands, looking closely at it.
"What're you looking for?"
"Puncture marks."
Bob gave Phoenix a wide-eyed look and dropped his half opened bar in his lap.
Jake rolled his eyes. "I didn't poison them."
Natasha gave him a sweet smile. "You can never be too careful."
Bob resumed unwrapping the candy bar. "Hey, um, Hangman?"
"Yeah?"
"About the other night, at the Hard Deck … I'm sorry for flipping you off."
Jake looked genuinely taken aback a moment, then he gave a dismissive wave.
"Psh. You don't have to apologize, Bob. I was tryin' to get your goat."
Bob shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said firmly. "It was un-Christian of me and I'm sorry."
"The only thing you should be sorry for is stooping to his level." Natasha said dryly.
Jake dramatically put a hand over his heart and grinned. "You wound me. But I suppose I deserve it." He turned back to Bob.
"Apology not needed, but accepted." Jake held his hand out to Bob who eagerly shook it. Then Jake turned to Natasha.
"Speaking of apologies, I'm sorry about what I said about you at the bar."
Natasha crossed her arms and regarded Jake with a slightly roguish grin and a speculative look. "Just what did you say about me, Hangman? I'll admit, I'm a bit curious."
Jake chuckled and held up his hands. "Oh, no. I don't want to tempt Sir Galahad here to another fight."
Natasha chuckled and glanced at Bob who had picked his book back up and now seemed to be trying to hide his face in it.
"Has Rooster been by yet?" Jake asked, pulling her attention back from Bob.
Natasha frowned. "No."
"What an idiot," He murmured.
"What?"
"Nothing." Jake's expression suddenly became serious. "Oh, did you hear that the Admiral passed away?"
Bob lowered his book and he and Natasha shared shocked glances.
"Wasn't Maverick close to him?" She asked, her brows furrowing in concern.
"Yeah, they flew together. Captain Mitchell saved his life on their first official mission together. I heard Iceman's the only reason the higher-ups haven't chewed him up and spit him out of the service. They don't call him 'Maverick' for nothing."
Bob and Natasha looked at each other again, mirror images of worry.
Natasha shoved her fingers through her hair as guilt assailed her. "Damn."
Bob dragged a hand down his face. "Man, and here I was goin' on … feeling sorry for myself …"
"Is he still out there?" Natasha pulled at the IV tube.
"Uh, Phoenix, you really shouldn't—" Bob began but she ignored him and yanked it out. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and winced at the momentary feeling of pins and needles on the soles of her feet as they touched the floor.
"He's probably long gone by now," Jake said as she strode past him.
Natasha jogged down the hall, her bare feet slapping against the cold tile. She heard a metallic rattling and glanced back to see Bob on her six, rolling his IV with him.
They turned the corner and there was Maverick standing at the nurse's station asking questions. The rattle of Bob's IV wheels alerted him. He looked up at them and blinked with surprise, then frowned in confusion.
"What are you—"
"We heard—about the Admiral." Natasha blurted out.
Maverick's mouth dropped open slightly.
"I'm so sorry, sir," Bob said emphatically.
Maverick blinked back a sheen of sudden tears. He ducked his head for a moment as if to collect himself, then looked back up at them; a sad, but grateful smile lifting the corners of his lips.
"Thanks, uh, that really means a lot," he said softly.
Natasha and Bob, now standing side-by-side, nodded their heads, neither knowing what else to say, but also feeling nothing else needed to be said.
