Glossary:

Replacement air group: The first squadron a new pilot goes to.

Note: From what I've heard, fraternization is frowned upon when on deployment, but especially on a carrier to make sure our sailors and pilots stay focused—so much so that spouses are not even allowed on Tiger Cruises (A tiger cruise is an American naval voyage that allows civilians to accompany a sea-going Navy vessel. The voyage allows friends and family of deployed sailors and Marines to spend time aboard a sea-going vessel to learn about the ship's day-to-day operations. Civilians are sponsored by a Navy sailor or marine, who accompanies them on the cruise.).

…….

Maverick and Penny were walking back to the bar when Maverick saw Rooster slip into the back of his Bronco. Maverick stopped and frowned in curiosity.

"Pete, what is it?" Penny asked.

"Uh … nothing, just …" His eyebrows then lifted as he watched Phoenix come out of the bar, cross the parking lot and also get into the backseat.

Penny tugged on his sleeve. "Come on, Pete, let's give them some space."

Maverick dithered. "I'm just a little concerned … Fraternization is a gray area—it happens but it's frowned upon when on deployment."

"Never stopped you before," Penny said dryly.

"I know … but I'm not some RAG pilot, I'm their commanding officer, I'm responsible for them …"

Penny leaned her cheek into his solid shoulder and squeezed the bicep she had her hand tucked against. "'Responsible'? Pete "Maverick" Mitchell?"

Maverick chuckled dryly. "Yeah, yeah, ok …"

"I'm going to head back inside, Peeping Tom."

Back in the Bronco Rooster ran his hand down his face.

"We won't be able to talk on the carrier, so I thought I'd get this out now. I, uh, I know we've got something going on between us, right?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, do we?" She asked, a little tersely. She wished he'd be more straight forward. She also noticed now the slight slur in his voice and he seemed to be working extra hard to form sentences. She did not want to have this conversation like this.

"When my … Dad died, my mom never really … recovered, I guess … I mean she never remarried … she had to raise me all by herself … It was really hard for her so… I'm honestly afraid to, you know … because of what could happen …" Rooster let out a rush of beer-laced breath in relief, as if he got a weight off his chest.

When Natasha did not say anything, Rooster looked at her expectantly.

"Yes, I know," Natasha answered. "You told me that already."

Rooster started slightly and looked askance. "I did?"

"Yes."

Bradley frowned as he tried to think back.

"You don't remember? It was our last night at Top Gun, the day before graduation, at the officer's club."

"Oh … really?"

"You really don't remember?"

Even in the dim light of the car Natasha could see an embarrassed flush was mottling his skin. "I-It's a bit hazy. Sorry. I did have a lot to drink that night."

Natasha couldn't be more incredulous if she tried. "So … that's what this talk was about?"

"Um. Yeah." Rooster looked almost comically sheepish and if she wasn't so angry Natasha might have laughed.

"Oh, my God, really Rooster?" Natasha went for the door handle.

Rooster reached out and gripped her shoulder.

"Phoenix, wait. Wait."

Natasha let go of the door handle and sat still, waiting.

"I … also wanted to say that, although I'm not sure I want to start something … maybe … after the mission, if things turn out okay … we could, maybe, talk about it?"

Natasha's frustration and disappointment seethed inside her. She took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice level. "That's a lot of maybes, Rooster …"

"It's all I can give you right now …"

"Did I ask you for anything?" Natasha snapped and opened the door.

"Come on, Nat …"

Maverick had ducked behind the car beside them, just in time to be unnoticed by Phoenix as she passed by.

Once he felt the coast was clear Maverick approached Rooster's Bronco. He leaned against the car body and bent down to talk to Bradley through the still open back door.

"Bradley."

Rooster started violently. "Holy—!" He put a hand to his chest. "Where did you come from? Were you watching?"

"When I said, 'don't think, just do,' I meant it in regards to flying, not women—never, ever apply that to women."

"You were watching." Rooster buried his face in his hands.

"I was concerned."

"What? Are you going to be our relationship instructor now, sir?"

Pete looked chagrined. "I'm afraid my track record with that is not as distinguished."

Rooster gave a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, no shit … sir."

…..

"So what do you think's going on with Rooster and Phoenix?"

Bob's dart throw went wide and bounced off the wall.

"W-what do you mean?"

"You didn't see them leave together?" Fanboy asked.

"Well, they didn't strictly leave together."

Fanboy gave him a look. "Whatever. They're both somewhere together and they've clearly got something between them."

Bob threw another dart which just made it to the bottom edge of the board.

Fanboy smirked. "And I win. Your lasing during the mission better be better than your dart game."

Bob smiled ruefully, but a shiver of nervous energy shot through him at the thought of the mission and possible failure. The bar suddenly seemed too loud and stuffy.

"Another game?" Asked Fanboy.

"No, thanks. I think I need to get some air."

Bob ordered a Coke from the bar with just a splash of rum for his jangled nerves. He made his way out to the back porch and from there he went to the row of Adirondack chairs facing the ocean and settled himself into one. He took a long sip of his Coke. The cool, salt-tangy breeze and the repetitive rolling of the ocean calmed him. Nature in general made him marvel at God and His creation, but it was the ocean—its beauty and vast depths teeming with strange life—that had always given him the most sense of awe.

Bob took another sip of his Coke and tilted his head back. The night sky was another thing that made him feel properly small. Unfortunately with the light pollution from the mainland only the brightest stars were able to be seen.

Bob's lips twitched as he thought of Hangman and Rooster and all the other young fighter pilots he'd known, blazing as bright as they could to outshine the others, desperate to be seen and recognized.

Bob was content being a "lesser light". Just because a star couldn't be seen did not mean it wasn't there doing its job, burning brightly in its assigned spot in the sky. Bob didn't need to talk himself up; being selected for Naval Weapons School, and then this mission, proved that his hard work and dedication to his crew did the talking for him.

Bob's gaze dropped back to earth. But there was one spot where being outshone rankled … Natasha and Rooster.

Bob stamped his foot as he attempted to mentally stem the tide of self-pity that was beginning to rise.

Footsteps tramping through the sand close by pulled Bob from his musings. Up the dunes stalked Phoenix, heading straight for him. She reached an Adirondack chair two down from his and flung herself into it.

Bob blinked at her in surprise. She did not seem to notice he was there—unlike their first meeting, when she had noticed him right off the bat. She was clearly preoccupied right now.

Bob opened his mouth to let her know he was there when Natasha suddenly let out a frustrated yell and flung her shoes into the dune.

Bob quickly shut his mouth and pressed himself further into the chair.

Natasha sighed and, rising to her feet, retrieved her shoes. She finally spotted Bob when she turned to walk back to the chairs.

"Bob?"

"Hi, Phoenix …" He said awkwardly.

Natasha blinked at him in shock for a moment, then said, "How long … ?"

Bob gave her a sheepish smile. "The whole time."

Natasha rubbed her forehead. "Of course. Well, better you than Hangman."

"Yeah. I … don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really."

"No, of course not." Bob said quickly. He studied her for a moment then said rather seriously. "But at least tell me … are you okay?"

Natasha gave him a tired smile. "Yes. Thanks for asking."

"Of course—glad to hear it." A beat of silence passed then Bob cleared his throat and moved to get up. "Well, you probably want to be left alone so I'll—"

Natasha reached out a staying hand. "Oh, no, Bob, you were here first, I'll go."

"No, no, you don't want to be in a noisy bar, I'll go."

"That's not fair—"

"No, it's fine—"

"Bob, sit." Natasha commanded, pointing to the seat next to her.

"Ok."

And so they sat for nearly forty-five minutes, in silence, which surprisingly grew more comfortable as the minutes ticked by.

Even when Bob heard a sniff or two coming from Natasha he didn't say anything. He wanted to reach over, take her hand, and ask her what happened. But he sat there, his hands folded in his lap. When one grows up outnumbered by girls one learns to listen and quietly ride out the initial wave of emotion.

Natasha took a deep, calming breath and let it out through puckered lips. She found herself oddly thankful that Bob was there. In that comfortable silence with the sound of the ocean, the gentle breeze and the release of emotions—coupled with the beers she'd had—Natasha found her eyelids getting heavy.

Bob glanced over to see that Natasha's head had lolled to the side and her eyes were closed.

Poor Phoenix … I wonder what happened …

Had Rooster … done something to her? Bob's hands fisted at the thought, but then he reminded himself of what he thought he knew about Rooster. No, he was a good man …

The sea breeze pulled large strands of hair from Natasha's bun to drape across her eyes and cheek. It was jarringly reminiscent of when he'd held her in his arms after the crash.

On impulse, Bob reached over and gently swept her hair back. Natasha's eyes opened.

Bob froze. "Sorry, I—your hair—I shouldn't have."

Natasha frowned sleepily at him. She had the distinct sense of deja-vu. He'd done that twice before … once in the hospital room and one other time she only remembered the feel of …

Natasha straightened and re-tucked the rogue strands back into the bun. "No, you shouldn't have …" Natasha looked at Bob who had his eyes trained on his hands. "But … you know … it's funny ... there are so many things that you do, that, had it been any other man, I would've been annoyed or insulted."

Bob looked up at her, his blond brows slightly furrowed in confusion.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is … I trust you …" her lips quirked up as she added, "on the ground as well as in the air."

Bob blinked at her for a moment, processing her words, then a shy smile lit his face. He looked a little embarrassed, but pleased. "Thanks, Phoenix. I'll—I'll try to continue to live up to that."

Natasha smiled then reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "Just continue being yourself and you will."

These precious compliments caused Bob's heart to soar. His pleasure was only tempered by the fact that he was pretty sure he was now firmly "friend-zoned".

Maverick suddenly came out on the back porch and clapped his hands. "Alright kids, bus is leavin'. Anyone out here from my squadron head back to barracks. Let's go."

……