Author's Note: I watched an actual OCS graduation video on YouTube for this, please appreciate my dedication (although there may still be errors as I am not in the military - let's call them creative liberties lol)
Enjoy!
Chapter Text
You're my fire and my safety
You never mean to break me
And that's why I'm afraid
'Cause someday everybody's leaving
- "die first" Nessa Barrett
Late May, 2002
Bradley watched his Uncle Ice leave the restaurant, partially to be sure he really left and partially to make sure he wasn't dreaming, that the man really had showed up at his work unannounced and tried to talk him into calling Maverick back.
Not gonna happen, Bradley thought stubbornly. Let him stew in what he did for a bit. Let him suffer.
A part of Bradley didn't really want to hurt Maverick he just wanted him to be sorry…
"He's a goddamn wreck" Ice had said…
But the other part of Bradley didn't care if Maverick was hurt.
Losing his father at a young age had been so tough, so so difficult even if Bradley didn't remember Goose well. He remembered the stories his mother and Maverick and Ice and the other flyboys would tell him. He remembered all of them singing "Great Balls of Fire" together at that sports bar. He remembered snippets here and there…
And even though Maverick had always been there for him as much as he could, Bradley couldn't escape his own fear of abandonment, the fear that everyone would leave him.
Seeing Maverick and Ice off on deployments ripped his chest apart every single time, leaving him full of anxiety until they were officially back on dry land. It wasn't like they had safe jobs, even once Ice became an Admiral and wasn't flying in the air with Mav anymore. Every deployment he could remember left him terrified that yet another loved one would be gone, especially the two deployments after his mother died. When he discovered Maverick's betrayal it meant he could be the one to leave, could try to forget the people he loved before they left him too.
In Fall 2002 he'd started attending a local community college. He'd scoffed when his psychology teacher had told their class that the human brain wasn't developed until around age twenty-five, especially in the area of decision-making.
Preposterous! He was nineteen and perfectly capable of making his own decisions! Wasn't that partially why he was so angry at Maverick - because Maverick deemed him unfit to attend the Academy despite Bradley's decision to join the Navy, thus doubting his decision-making skills?
But… some days were easier to be angry than others. Some days he missed his family so badly he had a lump in his throat. Some days he stared at Maverick's number in his phone and his thumb hovered over the "call" button. Some nights he sung his lullaby to himself even though it hadn't been sung to him in years.
Some days he stared at his pictures of his mom and dad and struggled to remember Goose's voice. It was getting to where he was starting to forget Carole's voice as well, and that terrified him.
Eventually his thoughts about Maverick only succeeded in urging on a seething rage inside of him, through every class he attended in community college as he prepared to transfer to a university, the whole time all he could think was about how he should have been at the Naval Academy doing this instead.
He thought about reaching out to Uncle Ice a few times, since Ice had said he'd still help Bradley in his career, but Bradley wasn't ready to talk to him yet, knowing it would only bring on a conversation about Maverick.
Christmas morning he watched his phone ring in his hand, staring at the name blinking up at him on the Nokia screen: Uncle Mav. It was everything in him not to accept the call but he couldn't. He just couldn't. What could Maverick even say at this point that would fix it all?
Maybe he's calling to apologize and explain, a soft voice whispered in his ear, but he shook it off and waited for the call to end. It finally did, and then the phone buzzed again, indicating he had a voicemail.
It took him a few minutes but he finally listened to it, angry at the tears that automatically sprung to his eyes at the anguish in Maverick's tone. Dammit.
His roommate Josh sat down next to him on the couch, facing him with a leg tucked under. "Hey, Brad, you okay?"
Bradley had told his roommates that he had no family, that his parents were dead and that the few others he considered his family he would never ever talk about, so he assumed Christmas was just a hard holiday for Bradley.
And it was, to be sure. And it still would have been hard if Bradley was still with Maverick and Ice and the others, but…
Bradley just shook his head quickly, not making eye contact. Josh, and their other roommate Steven, knew how tight lipped Bradshaw was about his past and his family.
For now, he played recreational baseball, kept working in that same pizza restaurant, and unlike other young men of his age avoided experimenting with drugs and always took a taxi home if he'd been drinking. He didn't want anything to tarnish his chances of getting accepted to OCS.
He did also date around quite a bit, with a few girls and a few guys, trying things out. Turned out he didn't really have a preference and got his feet quite wet in the dating pool. He shoved back the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind (what would Mav and Ice have to say about this?) that plagued him regardless of the fact that Hollywood and Wolfman had been together in secret for years and Ice, Slider, and Maverick certainly knew and had no issues with it.
Had Bradley stuck around a little longer, Maverick might have shared with the boy that he also didn't have much of a preference in sexual partners. In any case, Bradley was frustrated that he still cared about what they thought at all, annoyed that their supposed opinions mattered to him.
He continued to do his best to forget about it all, but that was hard to do considering all he was working toward to join the Navy as an officer.
What would Uncle Ice do? Was a question frequently at the front of his mind.
Christmas came and went, and then there was a call a few days after New Year's, a message simply asking Bradley to call him.
"Not happening," Bradley muttered to himself as he deleted the voicemail and slid his phone back into his pocket.
Days moved quickly as he threw himself into work, baseball, school, volunteering at the homeless shelter, and spending time with friends. He took the summer off of school and did a road trip to the Grand Canyon with Josh and Steven, and went camping at Lake Tahoe.
He kept himself as busy as possible so that his pain could be kept at bay, so he'd never be alone with his thoughts for long.
Before long it was almost Thanksgiving 2003. His calls from Maverick had stopped earlier that year, around March. It wasn't beyond him that that was coincidentally when war was declared on Iraq, and his throat tightened involuntarily every time he saw anything about the Middle East on the news.
He casually checked his emails one afternoon and froze when he saw one from Sarah Kazansky. Was she letting him know that Ice or Maverick were hurt? Or worse?
But he let out a large whoosh of air and threw his head back, looking at the ceiling, when he realized it was just Sarah telling him she missed him, that they all missed him, that Maverick was deployed to Iraq (as he'd suspected), and would he please let her know if he was alright and where he was staying?
Bradley stared at that message for a solid five minutes. Should he respond? In all of his anger and resentment towards Maverick it somehow hadn't occurred to him that Sarah would be missing him too…
And he felt a twist of anger in his gut that he'd even been scared Maverick was hurt or killed. He didn't want to care anymore, but he couldn't flip that switch fully no matter what he did.
He ended up replying to her that he was doing well, that he had some great friends and good roommates and that he was safe. No identifying information, and hoped that was good enough.
He didn't remember his dream the next morning, only the sense that he was being chased down by a spectral figure with his own face, pursuing him through a labyrinth of his own making.
July 29, 2006
Maverick parked his bike and killed the engine but stayed seated for several minutes before he swung his leg over and was able to stand. His feet felt like cement blocks, his legs weighed a thousand pounds each as he trudged through the cemetery to that familiar spot, the one he could have found with his eyes closed. The one he visited as often as he could, and nearly every time he was in town.
On today of all days, though, the visit hit him harder than it had in a long time.
Twenty years. How could it have been twenty years? Where had time gone?
How could it be possible that he hadn't seen Goose in twenty years? Or heard him laugh, or watched his mustache twitch when he was thinking, or gotten his special kind of tough love, or…
He made his way to the two plots and plopped down on the grass unceremoniously, placing a hand each on Goose's headstone and then Carole's. The tears had been trying to come unbidden since early yesterday but today he just let them ebb and flow as they wished as a familiar breeze gently brushed his face.
"I miss you…" he told the stones as his voice cracked. "Both of you… so much…" his tears were streaming now, sobs working their way up from his chest. Twenty years since he'd seen Goose, and five years since Carole joined her husband. He had been able to find some modicum of joy whenever he thought of what must have been a happy reunion in heaven, but today all he could think about was the heavy weight of loss and grief and regret and guilt sitting on his chest.
He was in physical pain at their losses, had been for years. He'd read something recently about what the loss of a loved one does to the body itself, the damage that's done to the body and the mind. Maverick had thought maybe the article should have helped him feel better (it didn't), as though validating his grief and terror and pain.
But since he still blamed himself for all of it…
"I've really fucked up, guys," he told the stones through his wracking sobs. "I…I've tried to fix it, tried to call so many times, and he won't answer me. Won't talk to me… I deserve it, though…I deserve his hatred… it's my fault, all of it…."
He desperately wished Bradley was there with him, in spite of all the junk between them, because the kid had just as much right to be there as Maverick, probably even more so. And Maverick could remember, clear as day, all the times they'd come out here with Carole and Bradley over the years, and then in 2001 when it was just Bradley, Mav, and Ice because Carole had died that May…
And he thought of what Bradley would be doing today, if he was even still near enough to visit his parents' graves, how his heart surely ached for Carole and Goose even more than Maverick's did, what this day meant for him as well. If Maverick would happen to bump into him and just see him, even if all Bradley would offer back was vitriol…
And on that he dropped his head forward and interlaced his fingers on the back of his neck as he wept bitter tears into the grass, his loud cries echoing through the peaceful cemetery.
"God, I miss you both so much…some days I really wonder how I can stand it at all… it's like an aching hole in my heart… I don't, I don't know how to fix it, I just miss both of you, I know it's all my fault, Goose, but I want you back, both of you back…talk to me, Goose, please…"
He was so engrossed in his grief that he didn't hear the car door shut in the parking lot, nor did he hear the steady, familiar footsteps make their way to him.
Ice gently and silently sat down next to him, the way he always did when he came here with Maverick.
Maverick was hardly aware of him though, his posture unchanged as he continued to weep piteously, sobs coming up from his gut and ripping from his throat. He barely reacted when Ice placed his hand between Mav's shoulder blades and firmly pressed there, then rubbed his hand back and forth slowly.
Ice had tears on his cheeks by now as well, his own guilt still gnawing at him twenty years later, and his heart breaking as he listened to Maverick's weeping, feeling his chest shake and heave under Ice's hand. He stopped rubbing Mav's back and instead held him, pulling Maverick into his side. Maverick went willingly, pressing his head into Ice's shoulder and crying into his shirt.
"I'm sorry, Goose!" Maverick cried. "I'm so sorry! I..I've failed you again, I f-failed Carole, I failed your son…God, Goose, I'm so…so sorry! I'm sorry you're d-dead because of me!"
Ice simply held Maverick as close as he could, as tightly as he could in spite of Mav's trembling, resting his cheek against his dark hair. At this point, after twenty years of friendship, Ice knew that no words he said would really help when Maverick was like this, so he just continued to hold him and let Maverick weep and cry, grateful that they seemed to be the only ones there, or at least the only ones in earshot.
It's not like Maverick wasn't like this on every anniversary of the accident, but this being such a significant anniversary surely added to the weight of guilt and sorrow. And on top of that was his never-abating guilt over what he considered to be yet another failure on his part: Bradley's exodus from their lives.
His cries increased in pitch and Ice sucked in a sharp breath, knowing what was coming. Maverick's panic attacks had lessened over the years (as far as Ice knew, at least), but Ice was not especially surprised that one was starting on today of all days.
The tell-tale signs of a Maverick-panic-attack continued: rigid muscles, hyperventilating breaths, cries now coming out as higher, desperate whines, and Ice knew that if he could see Maverick's face clearly he would see wide, unfocused eyes.
Ice rocked him through it, using a firm touch and soothing tone as he reassured Maverick, knowing the words didn't mean much but maybe they would keep him grounded and keep him from passing out.
He really wished he had an ice pack on him…
But as it was he squeezed him close and continued to murmur in his ear as Maverick cried for Goose and for Carole and for Bradley, for the massive hole their losses left in his heart, for himself and his perceived failures…
Mav rolled over, adjusting himself so he was looking up at Ice, and his face was suddenly a mask of confusion and annoyance.
"Ice!"
Ice tilted his head and furrowed his brow, wondering what was happening, why Maverick was suddenly using that tone with him.
"Fire or clear!"
Tom sucked in another sharp breath. Maverick was looking at him but also not, and his body was twitching from the stress as he relived the accident yet again.
"Jesus Christ! I could take the shot right here!" He practically shouted. "Fire or clear! Come on, Ice!"
It seemed as though Maverick was reliving it all on his own, not needing Tom's responses even as Mav looked up at him, still in Ice's arms, his body tense and his hands balled up but not lashing out. Ice felt panic clawing at his throat as his own trauma resurfaced even more than it already had on this day.
He clung to Maverick even tighter, knowing what was coming as Maverick tensed like a bowstring and his eyes went wide and frantic. "Ho-holy shit! Goose, I can't control it! I can't control it!"
Ice's eyes squeezed shut, anticipating what was coming next.
"Goose! I can't reach the ejection handle! Eject, eject! Watch the canopy!"
And then Maverick was shaking harder in Tom's arms, trying to tuck his knees up, his teeth chattering from adrenaline as he cried and trembled violently, tears streaming, covered in sweat as he remained locked in this part of the memory, the worst part, the part that frequently played on repeat whenever Maverick's mind was still and quiet.
"Goose! GOOSE! No!"
He was fighting with their parachutes and the raft and the cold water as he grabbed the straps of Goose's harness and hauled him up, waiting to hear a gasp of air…but his own heart stopped when he saw the blood covering Goose's slack face, and he whimpered and wailed as he pulled Goose on top of him, still hoping…but there was no pulse, no response, just Goose's weight covering him as he clung desperately to his best friend, arms wrapped tightly around Goose, sobbing and choking on tears and snot and begging God to bring Goose back as he cried into Goose's cheek and the Pacific rocked them, green dye seeping out into the water as a beacon… when the Coast Guard arrived and made his frozen hands unclench and let go of Goose, ripping his heart out as the weight of his body left him, feeling the coldest and emptiest he'd ever been in his life, even though they were being as gentle as they could; when the frogman came back to get him and found a weeping and broken Navy Lieutenant unable to speak and barely able to move - not from the cold water, but from his sorrow…
Ice just hugged the shit out of him, as best he could, as tightly as he could, his own eyes squeezed shut as he relived it with him, hearing their panicked voices over the comms in his ears, remembering trying to keep eyes on them in the water as he circled above until Jester was shouting orders at him to get your ass back to base, Kazansky! There's nothing you can do for them!
Bullshit, he remembered thinking. I'M the one who put them down there, I'm sure as fuck not leaving them now…
But soon they were low on fuel, and with Slider's pleading he finally sighed heavily and flew back, landing smoothly, his face an iron mask until they got to the locker room and he leaned back against the lockers and slid to the floor, shaking uncontrollably, unable to speak without knowing if they were alright, Maverick and Goose's shouts ringing in his ears until Viper came and found him…brought Ice and Slider to his office with Jester before he headed to the hospital…
And then, hours later, after the Coast Guard had picked them up and Ice had been sitting in Viper's office frozen like a statue the entire time, when Viper told them Goose was DOA at the hospital and Ice was at first in shock and then before he knew it he was suddenly choking on bile as he vomited into the trashcan, again shaking uncontrollably, soon on his hands and knees on the floor of Viper's office, his forehead pressed to the tile floor as he sobbed and Viper and Slider and Jester tried to comfort him…
Tom, come on, it's not your fault, son… accidents happen, it's alright, you're alright, Tom…
Ice sitting by Maverick's bedside in the hospital for hours, not speaking to anyone but Mav, his guilt consuming him from the inside out, the trauma hovering over both of them as he watched Maverick cry and plead for Goose from his hospital bed, unable to do much else besides that or sleep in fitful bursts before the grief and loss woke him again.
They hadn't been wingmen yet but something changed in Ice then; it was when he realized exactly what Goose meant to Maverick, that it was more than them being a pilot-RIO team and the best of friends, that they were family as well.
Then, on the transport to the Enterprise, Ice learned that Goose and his wife and son were Maverick's only family, and while his face had remained a stoic mask his insides had twisted in knots at the realization.
His jet wash had caused a flat spin that had robbed Maverick of his brother, Carole of her husband, and Bradley of his father.
He shuddered as Maverick continued to sob pleas with the universe to bring Goose back to him, as in his mind he was still bobbing on the raft, begging God to take him back in time just ten minutes, hell even five minutes, to give him a chance to change things, to make them right again…
"I'm sorry, Mav," Ice whispered to him, his voice strained. "I'm so sorry."
He did, unfortunately and eventually, collapse unconscious in Ice's arms and Ice simply laid him down as best he could across his lap, knowing by now that the syncope would rectify itself and Maverick would regain consciousness again once his breathing and heart rate regulated.
"I'm sorry too, Goose, Carole," Ice whispered to the two silent headstones. "I'm sorry for the accident, I'm sorry I failed you, and your son. I know Maverick thinks it's all on him but it's not, I should have stopped him, should have taken the hit. Then Mav and Bradley would still have each other. I…" he trailed off, his shame a hot ball of acid in his gut.
His thoughts drifted towards Bradley just like Maverick's had. The boy - young man, he corrected himself - should have been there with them. Even if he was still too angry to speak to himself or Maverick, Bradley should still have been there, Ice reasoned, even glancing around to see if maybe Goose and Carole's son was there but not making himself known…
He combed his fingers through Maverick's hair, grateful it was a Saturday so Maverick wouldn't be needed for his new test pilot assignment until Tuesday. Tom was watching his face intently, releasing some tension in his shoulders when he saw Mav's eyelashes flutter and heard him draw in a breath sharply.
Those green eyes were red and shiny when they finally focused on the worried blue eyes looking down at them.
"Ice?" Mav whispered, sounding slightly confused.
Ice nodded at him, trying to blink the tears out of his eyes. "Hey, Mav. You okay?"
Maverick was still meeting his eyes, still looking small and sad and confused when he answered with a sigh and a quiet: "No. Not really."
Ice nodded again, expecting as much. Maverick glanced around and then met his eyes again. "You been here the whole time?"
"Just about."
"Oh." And then Maverick had to sit and think for a minute, his traumatized and exhausted brain piecing things together.
"Did I…was…" Maverick tried to ask Ice what had just happened but the words wouldn't quite come out. Ice nodded down at him though, understanding what Mav meant.
"I met you out here and you were crying, so I just held you. But then you started having a flashback of it all and…here we are," Ice explained as simply as he could, looking into Maverick's eyes that were still round and wet.
Maverick grunted as he tried to sit up and Ice helped him so they were both sitting and facing the Bradshaws' headstones again. Tears pricked Mav's eyes once more as he bowed his head at the sight, then scooting closer so he could again place a hand on each stone and press his palms there firmly.
He sniffled, not bothering to wipe away tears or snot, not yet, as he tried to draw strength from the warm stones under his palms.
Then, after a few minutes, he resumed his spot next to Ice, who put his arm around Mav's shoulders once again as Maverick drew his knees to his chest. The wingmen simply sat there in silence, both grieving their losses and the gaping holes these two deaths had left them with.
Ice felt Maverick shudder under his arm and he just held him closer.
"What do you want to do now, Mav?" Ice asked him gently, content to continue sitting there as long as Maverick needed to, but also wanted to offer the opportunity for Mav to leave if he needed that instead.
"Honestly," Maverick sighed, tears hovering in his eyes. "I kind of want to go get drunk. Like…stinking drunk."
He glanced at Ice and shrugged at the admission as Ice snorted.
"I think that can be arranged," Ice said with a slight smile as he pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket: it was Slider on the other end, asking if they were still at the cemetery. Ice answered in the affirmative and told Slider they'd wait for him.
It felt like no time had passed at all (it had been twenty minutes) when Maverick felt a tall man sit on his right side, opposite from Ice, and heard him grunt as he hit the ground.
Slider had compassion in his eyes when he looked down at Mav, even as he nudged him with his shoulder.
"Hi, Pete."
"Hey, Ron."
Ron reached an arm around Maverick and patted Ice on the back, then hugged Mav with that same arm.
Maverick heard him sigh heavily when his attention was turned to the headstones in front of them.
"Mother Goose…we miss you, man. Been lots of days we could have used your wit and infectious optimism, I can tell you that much…" he trailed off and Maverick was a little surprised to see Slider quickly wiping away a tear from his eye.
"Carole, we miss you too. I miss using you as my arm rest and I even miss you beating me in poker and that over the top gloating you used to do every time you won," he continued, smiling slightly when he heard Maverick chuckle lightly next to him.
He did the same thing Maverick had, leaning forward and placing a hand on each stone and pressing there for a moment. There were many years that Ron was a part of this ritual too, after all, sharing a measure of the guilt that Tom carried while also sometimes having to be the voice of reason to reassure Tom and Pete when the guilt was especially overwhelming for the two of them.
Which, okay, for Maverick that was all the time, but still.
Sometimes Hollywood and Wolfman were here with them on this date, and a couple times Chipper and Sundown had happened to be in town on July 29 as well. And Viper had even met them out here about three times, and even Jester once a few years back.
The trio sat in silence for a while, Ice with an arm slung around Maverick's neck, not oblivious to the tears still glinting on the smaller man's cheeks and in his eyes as Mav plucked at the grass, his eyes unfocused. Slider leaned on Maverick slightly, just to give him some physical contact, occasionally glancing over Mav's head to look at Ice, whose eyes were also shiny and a bit unfocused.
Eventually though, Ice thumped Maverick on the back, his eyes and rear - and most of all his heart - in pain. "What was it again that you wanted to do now, Pete?"
Maverick snorted. "Get absolutely, totally drunk until I forget my own name."
Slider grinned. "Way ahead of you. Your place, Tom?"
Ice grinned back. "Let me call Sarah and warn her…"
When they arrived at the Kazansky home Slider had cracked open a beer and started handing it to Ice before pausing with an eyebrow raised. "You're sure this is okay for you, Tom?"
Ice shrugged and took the opened beer. "I've been in remission officially for nearly two years. I rarely ever drink anymore anyway, and today is a sucky day, so I think it's fine."
"Hear, hear," Maverick replied, his beer already halfway gone.
Slider directed that raised eyebrow at Mav. "You might want to slow down there, Pete."
"No, Slider," he replied. "I don't."
"Mav…"
"Not today, Slider. Don't lecture me today,"
Mav said firmly as he downed the last of it and cracked open another one immediately. For once Tom was not inclined to stop him, especially since Maverick was here in the safety of his home and not out at some bar pounding drinks alone.
Tom did nudge Pete to take his shoes off and put them by the front door, and did the same to Ron.
"Shoes, gentlemen. You know better."
"Yeah, yeah, Ice, we hear you," Ron muttered sassily as he kicked his shoes off by the door and Maverick did the same, never letting go of the beer can in his hand.
Sarah came downstairs with her purse on her shoulder, smirking at the three of them and rolling her eyes playfully, knowing full well that if any three men had an excuse to get wasted on July 29, it was them.
Well, and Bradley, but he wasn't here with them, sadly… she frowned a little as her thoughts went to that young man, knowing today was surely as hard on him as it was on Maverick, and wondering if he was also in the loving company of some friends who could offer him support and comfort…
Tom pulled her into his arms, distracting her from that line of thought as he kissed her hard, and she kissed him back, pulling away with a laugh.
"Now you boys have fun, and don't go anywhere," she said in her best "mom" voice as she grabbed her keys from the hook and gave Tom one more brief kiss. "I'll be back later. Please at least try not to burn the house down."
"No promises," Maverick told her, and she cupped his cheek with her hand for a moment. He was smiling at her but it didn't quite reach his eyes, and she could almost physically see the sadness covering him like a cloak.
"Mav," she said softly, her tone serious, rubbing his cheek a little with her thumb."You know we all love you."
He nodded, still with the sadness hanging on him. "I know, Sarah. Thank you."
She pressed her hand against his face a little harder for a second before dropping her arm, and then patting Ron on the back before sweeping out the front door, feeling tears prick her eyes at that look on Maverick's face.
In the kitchen, Maverick perched on a stool at the island, leaning on it heavily, his feet hooked around the legs of the stool so he could rock it forward while leaning on the sturdy kitchen island.
Ice and Slider joined him on two other stools, and they all sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes as they sipped at their beers.
A dark look was cast over Maverick's features as his gaze turned inward. Ice leaned across the island and gently squeezed Mav's wrist as Maverick let out a long breath.
"Do…do you guys think it's weird that Goose's…death…is still so hard on me?" He whispered, his voice unsure, his shoulders ticking upwards as his eyes gazed out the kitchen windows behind Slider's head.
Ice sighed and squeezed his wrist again, "Pete, grief doesn't have a timeline. I think it's understandable that you're still mourning a lost friend, that you will likely mourn his death forever. It was a terrible, terrible accident, one that anyone would be traumatized by, Mav," Tom told him gently, angling his head as he tried to get Maverick to just look at him in the eyes.
"You're grieving several lost friends, for that matter," added Ron as Maverick blinked rapidly.
"I know it's hard on you guys too…I just wonder if something is wrong with me, why I have a hard time moving past it…" Maverick said, still staring out the window with shining eyes. "I just…God I miss him, I miss both of them so damn much, you know?"
Slider and Ice both nodded, allowing Maverick to process his thoughts.
"And Bradley, I…God, I just want to talk to him for five minutes, just five minutes, and if he still wants nothing to do with me after that then so be it, but…I hate that things are unresolved between us…damn I miss that kid…"
Ice squeezed his wrist for a third time, resolving in himself to make sure they reconciled if it was the last thing he ever did. Somehow…
He was about to offer more reassurances when Maverick sniffled and ran his forearm over his eyes, wiping at his nose with a nearby napkin.
"I want to thank you both so much for today…and… I know you guys have told me before but… will you tell me stories about Goose from the Academy? Please?" His eyes and voice were plaintive and hopeful, and both Ice and Slider smiled at him as they told Mav the story about how Goose got his callsign and soon all three of them were giggling.
As the night wore on, more beers were drank, more and more stories were shared, and by the time Sarah got back they had shifted to the living room and were in fits of laughter still sharing stories about Goose, or Ice and Slider, or stories from the carriers they served on, etc. By the time Sarah got a sloppy kiss good night from her husband before she went upstairs to bed, some of their words were barely coherent, which only made them laugh harder.
In spite of the sad anniversary, the three old friends managed to honor their lost comrade with just as many laughs as tears that evening, bringing a small piece of healing to each of their hearts.
Sarah could hear the cacophony from her bedroom, but was grateful that the sounds were more laughing than crying.
Drunk Maverick was bad enough, but add in Drunk Tom and Drunk Slider, plus the fact that neither of their kids were home, and she should have known what she was in for. Especially considering Tom very, very rarely ever got stinking drunk. In fact she could remember the last time: New Year's Eve 1999 when Y2K was supposedly coming.
"If the end of the world is happening then none of us are gonna face it sober, that's for damn sure," Tom had slurred at her. Of course, she'd been pretty drunk too so she hadn't minded. Carole couldn't really drink without it making her very sick but she'd laughed as hard as everyone else, dancing around the kitchen with Maverick while singing "1999" at the top of their lungs.
A burst of loud cackling wafted up from the living room and she smiled to herself. That had definitely been Maverick, with the deeper laugh being Tom and the loud, LOUD guffaws being Slider.
On today of all days, though, she didn't mind. Especially after seeing Mav's face earlier when Ice had guided him into the house ahead of him and Slider, and Maverick was wiping his cheeks as Sarah yanked him into a firm hug.
Tom had clung to her the night before, and she knew the anniversary of Goose's death was hard on him every year of course but this year it seemed especially bad, and he had barely slept or eaten on July 28. Which of course meant she hadn't really slept either, and simply held him in her arms all night as they dozed off here and there, pressing kisses to Tom's hair and temples and cheeks, rubbing his back when he wept into her nightgown, burrowing himself into her arms as much as he could. She did her best to soothe him through it all, reassuring him, the way she always had and always would.
She knew that he didn't let that side of him out around anyone but herself, the kids, Maverick, and the flyboys, and so it was almost a relief that after bottling everything in all day at work that he allowed himself the emotional release once he was home alone with her.
Another wave of raucous laughter wafted up from downstairs. She smiled again as she settled into her pillow, knowing she'd have three hungover Naval officers on her hands on the morning but she didn't mind one bit.
She crept downstairs in the morning and smiled at what she saw:
Maverick cozily curled up in a ball on the love seat, one foot dangling off the cushions, arms tucked around himself, snoozing away into one of the throw pillows, his dark hair sticking up at odd angles.
Slider stretched out on the sofa, one arm hanging off so that his knuckles were against the rug, his other hand under his chin and cheek as he slept soundly, a small puddle of drool accumulating under his face.
And her dear Tom asleep flat on his back on the rug with a throw pillow under his head, legs pin straight, hands interlaced on his abdomen as he snored more loudly than normal, a usual thing when he drank copiously.
It was seven in the morning but Sarah wasn't expecting any of them awake for quite some time, knowing it had been closer to dawn than midnight when they had finally quieted down and gone to sleep…or passed out….
She went to start a pot of coffee as quietly as she could, hoping they would wake with lighter hearts than they'd had the day before.
She knew from Tom and the others that Maverick had been different before Goose's death: not much of a team player, reckless, didn't care much for the rules (not that he did now, but he was worse, Tom explained).
"He comes by his callsign honestly," Tom had told her with a shrug. He'd also explained how Goose's death had changed Maverick, how unsure he became temporarily, not trusting himself in the air. How in those early days a part of him expected Carole to end their friendship because of the accident despite her reassurances to the contrary, how Bradley had been the light in their lives that they'd needed so desperately - all the time really but especially in that first year after.
And then she'd seen for herself how Maverick tried to bury his pain, how he'd changed even more when Carole died and again when Bradley left, how he became dangerous again when Tom told Mav he had cancer, how Maverick stopped caring for his own life in a far worse way than he ever had before…
Then being shot down in 2004 had seemed to bring Maverick a dose of reality, that he couldn't pretend that he didn't need anymore. How grateful he was when Tom brought him home from Germany and Maverick had clung to Sarah for a good long while.
But still… so many long years now without contact from his adopted son…
Twenty years since an accident that changed him permanently: changed him mentally, emotionally, and physically.
Five years since one of his closest friends, one who knew him as well as Ice and could both comfort and challenge him like almost no one else could, died of cancer with her son, Mav, and Tom around her bed.
She shook herself out of her reverie, grabbing a yogurt and a spoon before quietly going on to the back deck to enjoy the early morning sun, thoughts of Bradley and where he must be hovering at the edge of her mind.
June 2, 2009
Ensign Bradley Bradshaw squirmed a little in his seat, feeling hot in his summer whites but excited for what had finally come: graduation from Officer Candidate School.
Finally.
It had taken so much blood, sweat, and tears to get to this point. Paying most of his own way through college because he didn't want the burden of too many student loans, having to take a semester off when he got mono, going to community college and then transferring to the university… all on his own.
He barely heard the order of events, but his head snapped up when he heard who was giving the remarks, as the director of OCS introduced…
"Let's welcome retired Captain Mike Metcalf to give some remarks."
Ohhhhh shit, Bradley thought. It's Viper.
Bradley had known the man since he was four years old after all, and hadn't seen him in years, not since about six months before his mother died.
But thanks to his name (Bradley Bradshaw? Really? Thanks a lot, Mom and Dad…) he knew Viper would know he was there even if he didn't recognize him.
Also, he'd heard stories about this man all his life, and he had eventually figured out that Uncle Ice had learned a lot from this man in many different areas…and in short there was no freaking way Viper didn't already know he was there.
Hell, he, Ice, and Slider had probably been tracking his entire progress through OCS. His stomach dropped when he realized he hadn't even considered that Iceman might be there, and he tried to look around the room and sweep his eyes over faces without being too obvious.
He didn't think Maverick would be there, mainly because he'd pissed off a lot of higher-ups and he doubted they wanted him anywhere near the new class of officers…and also because he probably had no reason to be here anyway…
He didn't see Ice, and he was sure the man would stand out (although again, the man had learned a lot from Mike Metcalf) so he relaxed slightly; he was pretty sure he could avoid Viper afterwards…
But then other familiar faces came into view: Slider, and next to him, Hollywood and Wolfman. Shittttt. What the hell were they doing here? At least he was not in their direct eyeline, as they were in the front row in the section to the right.
He slid down in his seat as much as he dared (which was a mere couple inches). As uncomfortable as he was, he was stirred by Viper's speech and encouragement to their class. It had been a grueling and frankly insane twelve weeks, and he was trying hard not to let his pride at his accomplishments be diminished by his nerves.
They would see him, of course, but it couldn't be helped now. He would be respectful and professional, would salute them and greet them, would be every inch of the Navy officer he now was.
In truth, he was almost glad to see them, because he had missed them, but he majorly did nottttt want to talk about Maverick or have them gang up on him and try to make him call Mav or Ice.
Then it was time for each graduate to be called out… he stood nervously when it was his turn, quickly feeling those familiar eyes on him.
"Ensign Bradley Bradshaw has been designated as a student naval aviator and has been assigned to Naval Aviations Schools Command located in Pensacola, Florida," the director said in to the microphone as Bradley stood and then sat down, picking up his cap from beneath his seat.
There it was. Now he just had to wait and see what was in store for him.
Finally it was the end of the ceremony.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in recognizing the United States Navy's newest officers!"
He had to fight his smile as he put his cap on, feeling relieved and excited in spite of it all as the room exploded in applause, remaining ramrod straight in his chair until after the service songs and the graduates were dismissed.
He didn't have any family waiting for him officially, but he knew who he'd see in the parking lot.
Yup. There they were. Slider leaning back on a column with his arms folded, Wood giving him a curious stare, Wolf with a giant grin on his face. He couldn't help but smile back, to be honest, but only for a moment before he snapped to attention and saluted the three senior officers, in a mirror of a similar scene that would occur ten years later at Iceman's funeral.
The older men saluted back, and Wolf's arm was barely down before he was hugging Bradley warmly.
"Look at you, kiddo! So, so proud of you!" Wolf was gushing as he beamed at Bradley. Bradley gave him back an embarrassed smile. Wood hugged him as well, and Slider offered him a firm handshake and his congratulations.
"So, flight school is next for you, huh kid?" Slider asked casually.
"Yes, sir," Bradley answered, trying not to fidget too much under that look Slider was giving him. There was a long moment of silence then, and Bradley caught the look Slider and Wood were flashing back and forth at each other, both tilting and jerking their heads towards Bradley before Wolf noticed and rolled his eyes.
"Kid, listen…we all miss you. All of us…" he emphasized with a raise of his eyebrows.
All of them, Ice and Maverick included, was his meaning, and Bradley knew that as he briefly looked down at his shoes.
"Mav and Ice aren't here then, sirs?" He asked as casually as he could.
"Nope. Ice is back at Miramar and Maverick was switched over to the test pilot side but he's on temporary assignment on a carrier out…East."
"East, sir?"
"Not keen on saying exactly where, kid."
"Oh."
Maverick was part of the US intervention in Somalia, on a special, brief mission, and Slider could have told him, but frankly he was enjoying seeing if he could make the kid sweat a bit.
He needed to stall him for a few more minutes anyway.
"Um, for what it's worth…I've missed you guys a lot…sirs," Bradley said, so quietly they almost didn't hear him, and Hollywood's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Could have fooled us, Bradshaw."
"I know, sir, I just… I don't want to talk to or about Maverick. So, I just…"
"Avoided all of us?" That was Wolf, although more stating facts than being derisive as Bradley nodded, looking at his shoes again. He was about to defend himself when he heard a voice he hadn't heard in almost nine years.
"Don't tell me that's the little Bradshaw before my eyes!"
Bradley turned and looked into eyes even bluer than Ice's and smiled a little before again going to attention and saluting.
Retired Captain Mike Metcalf twitched his mustache as he saluted back, then reached out and clapped the young man on the shoulder.
"No, couldn't be," Viper said with a wide smile. "Bradley Bradshaw is a little squirt barely out of elementary school.."
Viper had seen Bradley as a senior in high school but he remembered his early years best, back when Ice and Maverick were TOPGUN instructors.
Bradley squared his shoulders. "It's me, sir. Promise," he said with a small, shy smile.
"Ah well, time flies doesn't it? Seems like yesterday that these jokers were cocky asshole aviators at TOPGUN, and now look at them," Viper said, gesturing towards the flyboys with the tip of his cane, a necessary accessory since a nasty car accident six years prior. "Still cocky assholes, but fine officers as well."
Wood tilted his head to he side as he smiled at Viper. "We weren't fine officers then as well, sir?"
"Course you were, who said you weren't?" Viper said firmly, then shooting a wink at Wolf who was smirking and Slider who was shaking his head.
Bradley was looking back and forth between Metcalf and the others, amused and a little befuddled. Maybe they wouldn't be talking about Maverick anymore after all…
"Son," Metcalf said firmly, turning back to Bradley. "Speaking of time flying, isn't it time you called Maverick back?"
Bradley winced. So much for escaping unscathed. But he had no answer for Viper, and simply looked into those blue eyes that were boring holes in his skull.
"How much time do you think you have to forgive him, son? I mean, after all, it's not like Maverick isn't one of the very best and highly decorated naval aviators alive, the only one actively flying with three air-to-air kills who surely is being kept off the front lines and hasn't almost died three or four times, right?" Mike asked him in that same neutral tone, his head cocked slightly to the side as he drove his point home.
"And even if Maverick wasn't in a dangerous occupation, none of us are promised tomorrow. Think on that, kiddo. Could you live with yourself if he died without you two resolving things?"
It was a rhetorical question, Bradley knew, and he struggled to keep meeting Viper's eyes as he kept glancing away.
At his continued silence, Mike's shoulders relaxed a bit and he settled back on his heels, regarding the young man through narrowed eyes before he finally reached out and clapped him on the shoulder again.
"Just think about what I'm saying, son, alright? Maverick loves you, always has, always will. Promise me you'll think about it, okay?"
Bradley nodded, fighting the tears in his eyes. "Yes, sir."
"Good," Mike told him with a smile, and held his arm out to Hollywood. "Come on, Neven, help an old man back to his car."
Hollywood snorted as he offered his elbow to his former CO. "You got it, boss," he replied as they began their slow walk through the parking lot.
Slider sighed and smiled, looking at Bradley with pursed lips as he thought of what to say, but frankly Metcalf had said it all.
"I can confirm," Wolf said conversationally, "that Maverick does in fact still love you and still misses you. For what it's worth."
Bradley nodded, looking at his shoes again. Wolf hugged him then, squeezing him tight.
"Don't be a stranger, at least to us, okay kid?"
Bradley shrugged. "I'll…I'll try, sir. I'm still angry with him, and I…" he had to fight to keep his fists from clenching as the hot feelings of anger and betrayal rose in his chest.
Slider sighed, also hugging him before pulling back and looking him in the eyes. "Just…think about what Viper said, about not being promised tomorrow, about how short and precious life is…"
Bradley snorted. "I think if anyone realizes that it's me, sir, considering how my dad's life was cut short out of nowhere thanks to-" he cut himself off and snapped his mouth shut, his eyes wide as he realized what he almost said out loud.
Slider was still as a statue, staring at him with narrowed eyes as Wolf ran a hand across his face. Of all the people to make that comment to…the absolute worst person would have been Ice (because had Bradley said that to Maverick, Maverick would agree that it was all his fault and not argued with the young man), and the second worst person was…well… the one Bradley had said it to.
"Thanks to what, Ensign?" Slider asked, his voice as cold as Bradley had ever heard it.
"Um, Admiral, sir…thanks to the untimely accident that took my father's life, sir," Bradley replied with an audible gulp as Slider nodded slowly.
Slider nodded very, very slowly. "Correct, Ensign Bradshaw." He cleared his throat and did his best to settle the anger that had risen up, and it was only thanks to his over twenty-five years of being Ice's best friend - and having learned his techniques - that Slider was able to calm himself quickly.
He reached a hand out and shook Bradley's hand firmly. "Take care of yourself, and congratulations again. I know it's been tough to get here and… just consider what we said, please."
Bradley gave him a curt nod. "Yes, sir, thank you, sir."
With one more nod Slider turned and walked into the parking lot, probably to find Wood and Viper.
Wolfman gave Bradley a final, fierce hug. "Mav misses you, Ice and Sarah miss you, we miss you… you have family waiting for you when you're ready, okay?"
Bradley had to wipe a tear from his eye, he couldn't help it. "Okay. Sir."
Wolf called the number he had for Bradley in his phone, eyebrows raised until Bradley pulled the ringing phone out of his pocket. "Ah, so you never changed your number," remarked Wolf.
Bradley shrugged. "It seemed like a huge pain to tell all my friends and such that I have a new number so I never bothered."
"Got it. Well now you have my number for sure if you didn't have it before," Wolf said casually, knowing full well that Bradley had his number but he was making a point - trying to lessen the excuses.
He patted the young man on the shoulder. "Keep in touch with Rick and I at the very least, even just a check in. And you might want to try talking to Ice or Wood anyway, seeing as how you're going to flight school, I'm assuming to be a pilot?" Wolf commented with a tilt of his head as Bradley's eyes widened. He figured everyone assumed he'd want to be a RIO and follow in Goose's footsteps, but he'd been lured to the pilot side after years of Mav's and Ice's stories.
"Yes, sir."
"Just saying that you have some pilots who I'm sure would be more than willing to offer some advice, even if you don't want to talk to Mav…" he shrugged. "Think about it. And congratulations kiddo, you earned it."
"Thank you, sir," Bradley said, and then he was alone, watching Wolf's receding back, wondering if Ice would in fact take his call…
End Notes: More coming soon…