When you're gone

Running from love

You learned it from me

- "Gone" – Haux

Maverick's eyebrows climbed his forehead as his heart stopped and his ears burned. Bradley had never, evercalled him that, not even when he has been at his angriest with Mav, not even when he brought up Goose. He'd never cursed at Maverick like that. Cursed tohim, sure. But not at him.

Maverick didn't know for sure what this was about, but he had a pretty damn good idea.

"Bradley…" Maverick began, hoping to reason with him.

"Is it true, Maverick? IS IT?"

Maverick sighed, trying to stall.

"Is what true, Bradley?"

He heard a huff and a derisive snort.

"You know perfectly goddamn well, WHAT. You pulled my papers from the Naval Academy! I just called to check on my application, and I had to find out from a strangerthat you pulled my application over six months ago! What the fuck,Mav? Did you just think I wouldn't find out?! Huh?!"

A long pause as Bradley waited for a response and Maverick tried to speak against the crushing weight in his chest, against his vision blurring.

Not like this,Maverick thought, his mind spinning. Not that he hada plan, but his plan was to somehow tell Bradley himself, not the kid calling and finding out on his own….

"Were you going to tell me just before you go overseas again, huh? 'Bye, Bradley, by the way I pulled your papers, see ya!' Was that your fuckingplan, Mitchell?"

Oh, shit. Bradley had never called him Mitchell, either.

"No…" Maverick managed to gasp out. He had been in the corridor after a meeting but now ducked into a supply closet.

A vague neuron in the back of his mind said what is it with you and supply closets?* but the rest of his brain ignored it. He shut the door and sagged against it, not bothering to turn on the light.

"Bradley, no, it's not like that…please let me explain…"

"Don't bother! Don't fucking bother! How could you not tell me? Why would you pull my application in the first place?! Am I not good enough? Huh?!"

Maverick was still trying to find his voice, trying to calm his son.

"Bradley…just take a breath alright?" He checked his watch.

"Can we talk about this tonight?"

"No. No, Captain."

Oh, shit, he's gone from Mitchell to my rank…

"No. I want an explanation now."

"Bradley…"

"NOW.Why did you do it?!"

Maverick paused again. Bradley was soangry…he didn't know how he'd react if he told him Carole had made him promise…

"You…you just aren't ready."

"Ready for what,Maverick?"

Okay, at least we're back to Maverick…

"Ready for WHAT? You gonna answer me?"

Maverick was pressing his fingers to his forehead, bent over at the waist, unable to stand up straight, his knees buckling.

"Not ready for the responsibility, not ready to…" to understand what joining the Navy - or any branch - means,Maverick wanted to say, but he couldn't get those words out.

"So why couldn't you just talk to me?I thought we were closer than that! You've been like my father for almost my entire life, and you still can't fucking talk to me?"

Maverick felt hot tears of shame spring to his eyes, the heat spread into his chest.

The worst thing was Bradley being so angry with him.

The second worst thing was that Bradley was right. But he'd been so afraid of…

This.

"Bradley, I…I'm sorry, I-"

"Fuck your apology," Bradley spat. "Fuck you.I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you ever again. You are deadto me, do you understand?"

No. No no no nononononono…

The tears of shame and fear began to spill down his cheeks.

"Bradley, please, talk to me…"

"NO. Your time for talking to me has passed, Captain. You should have talked to me when you had the chance."

There was a long pause, the only sounds Bradley's angry, heavy breathing, and Maverick trying to hold back the tears that kept falling.

"Bradley…"

"I'm moving my stuff out. Don't come home until I'm done. You are dead to me, do you understand? Dead."

And because he couldn't resist firing off one more shot at the captain, he said,

"I wish you'd never come home from Afghanistan."

And then he hung up, leaving Maverick clutching the phone to his head as his knees gave out.

Admiral Tom "Iceman" Kazansky was not used to his aide being flustered, nor was he used to his aide asking him to please hurry up and get back to his office. Granted, Lieutenant Eric "Shorty" Kurzweil hadn't been Ice's aide for very long, but it still seemed quite out of character for the young man.

"Sir, Maverick is here waiting on you, and he's not himself."

Ice cleared his throat, something he'd been having to do a lot more frequently lately, and a lot more forcefully than he used to. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his grip on the phone as he entered the building. He'd missed a call from Maverick a little while ago but he'd been in long meetings that couldn't be interrupted.

"Kurz, I just walked in, l'Il be up there shortly, I'm not sure why this needed a phone call.."

"Yes, sir, I know, but I felt that it would be fair to warn you beforehand."

What the hell is Maverick doing? Ice wondered, and into his cell phone just said,

"I'm almost there, Kurz," and hung up. Riding in the elevator he mused about what wild goose chase he was going to send Shorty on as a consequence.

He stepped out the elevator and down the hall to his office, looking up to see Kurzweil standing in the hall outside the door, arms folded at first, then snapped to attention at the sight of his boss.

Ice calmly raised his eyebrows at the young lieutenant.

"So..." he said judiciously, "What happened?"

Kurzweil fidgeted before answering.

"Sir, he, um, well...l've just never seen him like this."

Ice opened his mouth as if to make a comment on not liking vague conversations and then his mouth snapped shut again, irritated. What could possibly be wrong with Maverick to make Kurz act like this?

Without saying a word, he walked past his aide straight into his office, bracing himself for whatever horrors lay on the other side of the door.

Well...it wasn't as bad as he thought. But it wasn't great.

Maverick was usually cool confidence and cockiness, carrying an air of what appeared to be aloofness but that only shielded the hyperawareness that every good pilot has. Ice was used to coming into his office and finding Maverick rifling through some book, staring at pictures, fiddling with knickknacks, threatening to check his emails on Ice's computer...

Maverick was always comfortable in Ice's space, whether here or at the homestead, both when Ice only outranked Maverick by one rank and when he was promoted to Admiral, it never made any difference. And now, lately, when Maverick would ask Ice if he was free, or if Ice knew Maverick was free, every single time Maverick was relaxed, as if the office, on base or at Ice's home, was his own familiar environment. But today…

Today Maverick was a shell of the man he usually was. He was sitting in a chair in front of Ice's desk, hunched over, elbows on knees, his head as close to his knees as he could get it, every muscle taut. He didn't look up as Ice opened the door and then closed it gently. He didn't look up as Ice set down his keys, folders, etc., didn't move when Ice sat down in his big chair behind his desk and cleared his throat, a little louder than he'd intended to. He was waiting to see if Mav would tell him what was happening on his own.

Maverick looked like a spring that had been wound so tight it was bound to burst at any moment. Ice sat and stared at him for a moment, realizing that he could see Maverick's back rise and fall in short, quick breaths. Mav's hands were clasped on the back of his neck, and Ice tried to see his face but all Ice could see was the top of Maverick's head, and heard only gasping breaths. He narrowed his eyes; Maverick didn't seem to be aware of him at all.

Ice knew a Maverick-panic-attack when he saw one.

Just when Iceman opened his mouth to speak, he heard a barely audible whisper escape from Maverick's lips.

"Bradley…"

Ice's heart leapt into his throat. Had something happened to Brad?

Ice got out of the chair then, getting down on one knee in front of Mav so that he could finally see his face and get in his line of sight - usually the only way to get through to Maverick when he was like this. He was shocked to see the captain's taut face and his bloodshot eyes, shining with fresh tears. He could see the spots where tears had fallen on Mav's khaki uniform only minutes ago as well, and the tracks down his cheeks. Ice mentally cursed at his aide and made a mental note to have a discussion along the lines of if Maverick shows up here in TEARS then it might be a good idea to TELL ME that, Kurz...

He gently placed one hand on Mav's arm, and the other reached over and snagged a Kleenex off his desk and pressed it into Maverick's palm. Maverick's fingers slowly closed around it, and he sat up a little bit, dabbing his face and nose. The look on his face broke Ice's heart; he hadn't seen that look on Maverick since…

Since Carole had died…

Since Goose's funeral…

"Is he hurt, Mav?" Ice asked urgently but Maverick shook his head, still not making eye contact.

So if he wasn't hurt, had they had a fight? Maverick and Bradley had alwaysbeen close, even before Goose died, and sure there had been difficult moments but that was the case with every family, and they had always worked through it, so what could have happened now to make Maverick so upset...?

Ohh, Ice realized. He scooted closer to Maverick, close enough that Maverick couldn't easily avert Ice's eyes. Maverick tried, but Ice maneuvered his head to keep in front of him.

"He found out didn't he?" Ice asked him softly. Maverick didn't seem to hear him at first, but then nodded, tears springing back to his eyes.

"I think it was inevitable," Maverick whispered.

"But I hoped…somehow I hoped he wouldn't find out." He sniffled, and Ice handed him another tissue.

"Stupid of me..." Mav muttered, shifting so he was leaning back in the chair, burying his face in his hands for a moment. Ice stood and leaned back on the desk, arms folded, looking down at his wingman in concern, waiting for Mav to take a few deep breaths before speaking again.

"Pete..." Ice began.

"What did Bradley say?"

Maverick took a long, shuddering breath before answering.

"At first, he was incredulous. 'The naval academy said you pulled my application, is that true?' and then when I confirmed…he was silent. I thought that was the worst part, you know?" Ice simply nodded as Maverick continued,

"Then he asked me why…and I couldn't tell him the real reason...I just said he wasn't ready...I wanted to tell him he could try again in a few years, it just wasn't his time, I just couldn't speak…Ice, he's neverbeen this angry with me. Never."

Here Maverick got choked up again, rubbing a hand over his eyes, jaw clenching. Ice leaned forward, literally on the edge of the desk.

"He...he was screaming at me, Ice. I knew he'd be angry, but this...I told him I wanted to get together with him and talk about it in person, and he wasn't having it. He said I should have talked to him about it before, that the time for talking is long gone. He cursed at me…he's never done that before…He…He said I'm dead to him now…"

Mav's voice broke on the last part, and tears started streaming again. His mouth worked as he tried to keep himself from breaking down completely, and he looked up at Ice pleadingly.

"He said I'm DEAD TO HIM," Maverick repeated.

"He never wants to see me again, he...he said he wished I'd never made it back from Afghanistan…" at this comment Ice's eyes narrowed in anger, but he let Maverick continue.

"…he said he's packing up his things and told me not to come to the apartment while he's there, he's never speaking to me again..." the words were gushing out now, Mav's speech harried, and here he was no longer able to keep himself from falling apart.

"How can I be dead to him? He's my family…He's my son, Tom, I…" Maverick's voice broke, and so Ice felt his heart break, the same way Maverick's had an hour earlier when Bradley had called, the call that had sent Maverick, reeling, straight to Ice's office.

"Ice, I don't know what to do! What CAN I do?" Maverick cried, now full on sobbing hysterically, and Ice wordlessly pulled him out of the chair and into a fierce hug, holding him tight, Mav soaking his shirt as he sobbed into Ice's shoulder, shaking.

Ice knew, more than anyone, how hard it had been for Maverick to pull Bradley's application, how much he loved Bradley, and how seriously he took the promise he had made to Carole. She had made him promise that he wouldn't let Bradley fly, wouldn't let him become an aviator, but Maverick knew it was all Bradley had ever wanted: to be like his dad and Uncle Mav, and Ice as well.

Still, he'd made the promise…and Maverick may be a man who defies orders, but he was not a man to break promises to his family.

He'd done it out of love for Carole, and out of love for Bradley, out of a desire to keep him safe. Maverick had seen war, would see war again, and he wanted to spare his son the horrors that he'd experienced.

Ice knew all of this, and hoped Bradley could be reasoned with once he'd cooled off. After all, Goose had been a pretty reasonable and even-keeled sort.

Except Goose didn't raise him, did he? An annoying voice in his mind reminded him.

Shit.

Maverick continued to shake in Ice's arms as he wept, much the same as he had when he'd pulled Bradley's application, saying what a terrible father he was, that he'd let Carole down, and then started crying harder…

"I let Goose down, Ice! I let him down! I've let everyone down! He's like my own son,I never deserved him, he deserved better than me, he deserved to have his father…"

Uh-oh. Ice knew where this line of thinking was headed, and he was too late to stop Maverick's thoughts from connecting… Ice rocked Maverick gently as the other man continued to cry in desperation, fear, and sorrow.

Thinking about one trauma usually invokes another, especially when they're connected. Maverick's brain took what it believed to be a logical path across events, too stressed and taxed to do otherwise.

Bradley deserved Goose for a father, and he was left with me, a poor substitute, because I was the pilot when…when…

Kurzweil heard the shout from the Admiral's office and entered at once. He'd heard Maverick's strained tone of voice through the door, although not exact words, and had also heard was sounded like loud crying. So he didn't hesitate when he heard Iceman call for him urgently.

He swiftly opened the door and immediately covered his mouth with his hand, gasping.

The Admiral was sitting on the floor, his back against the front of his large desk, holding tightly to what appeared to be an unconscious Captain Mitchell in his lap.

"Sir, what….?"

"Kurz, thank you, I couldn't reach my phone," the Admiral said calmly, gesturing up at the desk.

"Captain Mitchell…fainted. We need to get him to the infirmary…wait, scratch that, I need someone to come up here. Can you call someone, please?" Iceman continued, still quite calm, or at least far calmer than Kurz would expect someone to be in this position.

"Sir, is he alright?"

Iceman sighed, as if considering how to answer that question.

"Please just call someone, Eric."

Kurzweil nodded and returned to the Admiral's office after the call was done.

"Sir…I don't mean to push but…"

"Let's just say it's a reaction to extreme stress. He…" the Admiral paused.

"Captain Mitchell received some very bad news today, Lieutenant."

"Oh," was all Kurzweil could think to say.

Eric hadn't worked for the Admiral terribly long, but long enough to know his "please give us privacy" face, and hastily left to go wait for someone from medical to show up.

Ice shifted the weight of his unconscious friend on his lap. He was just grateful he'd caught Maverick as the panic attack became a full-on trauma response and the captain had keeled forward and his eyes had rolled back in his head.

Ice knew he'd be alright, this had happened before, but as always he just wanted to make sure.

So much loss.

Maverick's traumas were complex and deep. He still, still, blamed himself for Goose's death, his brain stillgiving him nightmares about that day, and he'd never stopped missing Goose. He missed Carole too, Ice knew, and missing Carole meant missing Goose as well. It was all tied together.

And now the complication of Bradley, whom Maverick loved like his own child, Maverick who had trouble loving himself but loved others so deeply…

Ice sighed heavily, looking down at Maverick's face, which looked strained even though he was unconscious, and put his hand on Maverick's cheek, using strong pressure to stroke Mav's face with his thumb, knowing that sometimes roused him.

Oh, Mav…I wish I knew how to order you to forgive yourself…

He intended on calling Bradley the second he knew for sure that Maverick (who was already starting to stir) was alright. That Afghanistan comment was reallyuncalled for, and Ice was hopeful he'd be able to reason with the young man.

Two medics appeared in his doorway, looking concerned, and then confused that the Admiral on the floor seemed less concerned than they were. He beckoned them in.

"Come on in, and shut the door please."

They seemed even more confused at that, but did as they were told, one closing the office door behind him and the other kneeling on the floor and getting out his kit.

"What happened, sir?"

"We were having a meeting and he fainted. But I think it might have been low blood sugar, or maybe low blood pressure, just wanted you guys to check."

The medic on the floor glanced at the Admiral, whose face remained deadpan. The man - captain - in the admiral's arms, seemed to be coming-to. A blood pressure cuff was administered by one as the other checked his pupils. Maverick's pallor was returning, and the medic checking blood pressure raised an eyebrow at Ice.

"His pressure is a tad low but still well within the normal range."

"His pulse?"

"Strong and regular."

"Must've been blood sugar then," Ice said, again in a neutral tone.

The medic who was standing narrowed his eyes and pulled a clipboard out of his bag.

Maverick suddenly inhaled a sharp, sudden breath, and his eyes fluttered open, looking up at Ice in confusion, and then at the two medics who were looking at him in concern.

"Ah, sir, what's his name? I can see the Mitchell part but…"

"Wha…." Mav mumbled.

"No need for that, corpsman. He's all right now. I overreacted."

The medic on the ground regarded the captain intently, who was staring back at him, just as confused.

"I guess…it could have been a vasovagal reaction…has he been under a lot of stress?"

"Ice…." Came a whisper from the captain.

Ice ignored Maverick and nodded as though the medic's suggestion was the obvious thing.

"Yes, but we'll call his doctor in the morning, won't we, Captain?" Ice asked Maverick lightly, who nodded once.

"There. See? He's fine. Could you gentlemen help us up please?"

The medics did as they were asked, helping Maverick into a chair and helping the Admiral to his feet.

"Sir, we really do need to make a report…"

"Well then tell them that Admiral Kazansky was feeling light-headed and needed to be checked out, and it turns out he's fine,"

Ice told them, this time in his more authoritative tone. Then his voice and face softened.

"Gentlemen, please. If you must make a report, then put my name on it."

The one with the clipboard sighed and said, "alright," tearing off the pages he'd begun writing on and tossing them in the trash can.

"But sir…if he faints again…"

Ice nodded.

"If it happens again we'll do an official report."

The medics nodded back and reluctantly left, and no sooner were they out the door than Shorty appeared in the Admiral's office, closing the door behind him and folding his arms, glancing at the now very much awake, but still confused, Captain Mitchell, and then turning his gaze to his boss.

"Sir…permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"Sir, what the hell was that? You had me call medical but you didn't want to make a report…"

"Eric, when you called did you say why? Or for whom?"

"No, sir, just that someone had fainted in Admiral Kazansky's office and we just needed to make sure that person was okay."

Ice breathed out a long sigh of relief.

"Good man, Kurz."

Shorty's eyes were pleading.

"Sir…."

"Okay, Shorty…but what I'm telling you stays in this office, got that?" Shorty nodded.

"Maverick had an episode of something called vasovagal syncope, which is something that happens occasionally when he is under a great amount of stress."

"But…based on Captain Mitchell's record, isn't that pretty much all the time?"

Maverick managed to snort a laugh at that but allowed Ice to continue the explanation.

"Eric, in this case it's stress related to past trauma, and specifically the intense trauma of one particular incident, which I will not be discussing with you right now. It's happened before, but this time it was very sudden, and the worrier in me took over."

"But…isn't that in his medical record?"

Ice sighed.

"The incident? Yes. The Complex-PTSD he suffers as a result? Not exactly."

Maverick had been watching this entire exchange with mild interest, until he suddenly remembered why he was in Ice's office in the first place and his expression darkened.

Iceman quickly dismissed his aide and turned to Maverick again, once more getting on one knee in front of him in the chair.

Maverick leaned forward so his elbows were on his knees, his forehead so close to Ice's that it was almost pressed to him. He sniffled, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes again, his face, eyes, and nose having that odd feeling that one gets after they've cried for a long while.

Mav felt more tears coming anyway.

"Ice…" he whispered.

"I don't know what to do…how to get through to him…"

Ice made a tchsound and again pulled Maverick to him, again rocking him a little as Maverick relived that phone call once again.

And with the sound of Maverick's cries in his ears, Iceman thought to himself:

You may not know what to do, but I might.