I Can't Let Go

by RosieRhine

On the precipice of his own cancer diagnosis, Admiral Tom "Iceman" Kazansky reflects on Carole Bradshaw's last days and a decision Maverick make that has long-lasting consequences... or, a fill in of what happened between Carole's death and TG: Maverick (crossposted on AO3)

11. Chapter 11 Push and Pull

"the deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?"

- excerpt from The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran

July 29, 2006 (the other side of the cemetery)

Bradley let his head fall back to the driver's seat headrest, sighing heavily and closing his eyes. He hadn't been to his parents' graves in several years, and he had no one to blame but himself for that.

He hadn't come in 2002, the summer after he slammed the door on the only family he had left, because frankly he was too angry to face anyone, even the silent tombstones.

He did come in 2003 when he assumed Maverick had been deployed to Iraq (he was) and knew he wouldn't run into him here. He hadn't been able to stay very long; his mother's death two years prior was still a fresh, raw wound in his heart. He thought that visiting on the anniversary of his father's death, not hers, would make it easier, but of course it hadn't.

And…oh. That was the last time he was here, he realized. He simply hadn't made the drive the other years. But now…twenty years later…

What little he remembered of Goose was good and warm and joyful, but it was mostly feelings, and snippets of Goose smiling and singing, specifically the memory of singing "Great Balls of Fire" with Goose and Maverick at the bar that afternoon… if he concentrated hard enough he could still conjure the feeling of Goose hugging him tight, but it was fleeting, just a ghost on the edge of his memory.

But he still missed him…missed his presence. Maybe it's even just missing the idea of him.

He often wonders how things would have turned out if Goose hadn't died. If Maverick—

No. Stop it, Bradshaw. That's not fair to Maverick and you know it.

He sighed again and leaned forward so his head is pressed to the steering wheel, building up his nerve. He'd come in the afternoon intentionally, knowing that for many years, ever since he could remember, they'd always visited earlier in the morning at 9am sharp with whoever could make it.

It was Maverick and Ice and Slider who came with them that first year in 1987, along with Mav's RIO Mayberry, Viper, and even Jester. He remembered sitting in his mother's lap, staring at the words he couldn't quite read yet, vaguely remembering being held by Viper and then by Mayberry because his mother and Maverick were both crying and inconsolable, and Mayberry had eventually taken him to a small tree a short distance away so he could climb and play and allow the adults to grieve.

That tree grew taller over the years, just as Bradley himself did.

He sharply blew air out of his cheeks and lumbered out of the car, stretching, and then locking the car as he made his way through the cemetery. He parked on this side because he oddly enough liked the walk down the quiet path, the afternoon summer sun warming his neck, hands in his pockets as he strolled slowly along.

But then…

Bradley was correct in that for eighteen years everyone had showed up to the cemetery at 9am on July 29. Except that in this year, 2006, Maverick had arrived at 3pm, with Ice arriving just after him, because of Iceman's morning meetings that he couldn't get out of.

Had Bradley still been in communication with them he would've known that. But since he wasn't—

He was relatively sure he saw them before they noticed him, and he ducked behind a large tree off the path to his left. Shit.

Peering around the tree, he relaxed slightly, but only because Iceman was fully focused on Maverick and not paying attention to anything else.

Maverick was, understandably, leaning heavily on Ice and weeping loudly, seemingly barely aware of even Ice, let alone who else was around.

Bradley's heart lurched and his chest and cheeks grew hot. He didn't want to feel sorry for Maverick, he didn't.

Maverick deserved to be in pain, didn't he?

Isn't this what Bradley had desired for the man for the last four years? For him to feel pain like Bradley had?

But this pain…oh…what Maverick was going through now was different…

He could hear Maverick speaking sharply but couldn't quite make out what he was saying, and then soon it looked like he'd collapsed in Iceman's arms. Bradley had to clench his fists and shut his eyes to keep from running over there, the awkwardness be damned, just to make sure Maverick was all right.

Shitttt.

What was holding him back? Even he wasn't sure…it felt like…

Shame.

How could he rebuild now? He'd burned his bridges with all of them.

This was all Maverick's fault anyway, wasn't it?

Anger is insidious, and it whispered in Bradley's ear, they weren't even supposed to BE here this late!

He was torn, and that made him even angrier. All he'd wanted was to come here and talk to his parents, and once again his plans were thwarted by Maverick! He felt his blood pressure rising, and was clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to breathe deeply to calm himself down.

How did he get so worked up so quickly?

This is what happens, of course, when hatred and unforgiveness are allowed to stew and rot in one's heart. When unpleasant things are left alone and not faced and dealt with.

He stood there, frozen, for long minutes, torn between making a long loop back to his car and rushing towards the men who had helped raise him. He could see Maverick sitting up and Ice wrap an arm around Mav's shoulders securely, and his breath hitched when Ice glanced around the cemetery and very well may have actually seen him by this tree… but Maverick's crying drew his attention and Ice turned his focus back to his friend.

He heard Ice answer a call, and took the opportunity to make a hasty escape, hurriedly taking the long route back to his car, head tucked down and hoping he wouldn't be noticed. It was the dead of summer but he wished he had a hooded jacket or sweatshirt to hide himself further.

His parents' graves were out of sight at the other parking lot, and he sat in his car with his windows down, head back against the headrest, eyes closed.

DAMN it…

It would be so easy to walk back down. He didn't imagine they'd even be that surprised to see him on today of all days.

He knew them well enough to know they'd at least be respectful, that Ice's focus would be mostly on Maverick anyway, that he could probably go down and pay his respects and then leave, but…

Fear and pride are finicky companions.

He was afraid of what he'd face, what he'd say, what they'd say, how they'd react… his fear convincing him that it would be far worse than it actually would have been.

His pride told him that he was in the right, that he had no reason to cower and hide, and that he owed them nothing.

But he was a young man at war with himself. More lost than he was willing to admit. His heart ached for his family and he'd done his best to ignore it, to turn his shame into anger, because anger was easily directed at others and he could take the focus off his own role.

How can Maverick apologize and explain if you won't talk to him? That nagging voice reminded him.

He sighed and cranked the car, resolving to come back in the evening. He'd already been sitting for quite a while…

Suddenly it hit him. He turned the car off and yanked the keys from the ignition and got out, running down the path. Maybe he could still catch them, beg their forgiveness, start to work things out, have his family back…

But his heart stuttered in his chest as a chill came over him - he expected to see Ice and Maverick still sitting at the graves, but there was no one there, and he could hear the distinctive sound of a Kawasaki pulling onto the main road.

He'd just missed them! Damn!

He was again standing frozen on the path. There was no way he'd be able to catch up with them now; they'd be long gone by the time he got to his car and he wasn't even sure where they were going.

He looked over at his parents' headstones and plopped heavily on the ground, head in his hands.

His family was gone.

Partially by his own hand, his own stubbornness. His own refusal to hear apologies. His refusal to move past it.

Partially by conditions out of his hands. A training accident. Ovarian cancer. But gone nonetheless.

He glanced up at the stones, tracing the letters with his finger like he always did. He wondered what Nick and Carole would have to say about all of this. What they'd say to him knowing he'd pushed away the man - the men - who had helped raise him, who taught him to ride a bike, who came to every baseball game when they were in town.

Ice had helped him get through his insecurities as puberty hit, especially when his voice was changing, and even taught him how to tie a necktie for his middle school formal (Maverick could do it too but he'd been in Bosnia, and Ice had instantly agreed to help him), among the many, many things he'd learned from Iceman.

Hollywood had taught him proper form at-bat, how to swing the arms, the bat, and the body for maximum impact.

Slider was the one who spearheaded their group camping trips, teaching Bradley everything about how to properly set up a tent in any weather, how to start a fire and keep it going, how to read animal tracks in the mud and the brush.

Wolfman had always been the one to help him with math homework if Maverick wasn't around and Wolf was, or science projects, his physics homework…

And Maverick…what hadn't Maverick done for him? Mav had taught him how to drive (much to his mother's consternation), how to dance (Mav had good rhythm, who knew?), how to change a flat tire and how to do his own oil change and change spark plugs and—

Tears pricked his eyes. Damn it.

Was he too late? Too late to fix things? A sense of melancholy overwhelmed him as he pondered it all, still staring at his parents' headstones.

Again, what would they have to say about this?

Would they still be proud of him?

He wished he knew, but he wasn't feeling especially proud of himself.

He tucked his knees to his chest, pondering on the men who'd been sitting in this very grass only a few minutes ago, and wondered how things had become so broken, and would they ever be whole again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

March 2012

Sarah doesn't know what time it is, nor does she care. She's barely aware of herself, even, as the feel of Tom's hand in hers outweighs everything else, the noise of the hospital machines a footnote in the back of her mind. She's aware of them, perhaps, and she would notice if they were gone, but they're not her focus. Tom is her focus.

She rubs his hand, which thankfully still holds some warmth. She presses it to her lips and kisses his fingers, the back of his hand. She kisses hard, trying to push all her love for him through the kisses to his hand, then holding that hand to her mouth and chin. His face is slack except for his brows, which seem permanently pinched. It's hard to see his mouth behind the oxygen mask but she knows his lips are slightly parted. The rest of his body is relaxed as well, and that brings her a little peace because it means his pain is managed for now.

She'd give anything to hear his voice, even though it changed after the first bout of cancer, and with this round he can't talk at all yet, thanks to the surgery, and the chemo has him so weak he barely has energy to communicate anyway. Their son sits on the other side of the bed, holding Tom's other hand, but his head has dropped to his chest as he sleeps lightly, his hair cut to Navy standard (as befitting an Academy cadet) and looking so much like his father that her heart hurts. Felicity had reluctantly gone home to take a nap at Sarah's urging, slightly mollified by the fact that Tom did seem to be peacefully asleep.

She checked her phone when she heard it buzz and exhaled a long breath of relief: Maverick had finally arrived at the hospital and was on his way up once they verified his identity. Thank God. She wasn't sure who needed Mav's presence more: her or Tom.

A harried rap on the door alerted her, and she instantly told him to come in. He threw the door open, his hair a mess, looking like he hadn't slept in days.

"I'm sorry, I would have been here sooner, I couldn't get away," he breathed out in a rush as he went to her side, his hand heavy and warm on her shoulder. She gently laid Tom's hand on the bed and stood, sagging into Maverick's arms instantly, burying her face in his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around her so tight she could barely breathe, although that could have been from the sobs that were coming out. "I'm here, Sarah, I'm here, they don't need me back for a few weeks," he assured her, not bothering to shush her because his tears were starting to well up at the sight of his wingman weak and pale in the hospital bed.

Daniel had woken up when Maverick burst into the room, and he remained at his father's side as he watched his mother and uncle, heart sinking at the look on Mav's face: the older man was clearly trying to hide his despair and keep his face neutral but the telltale twitches of his lips and jaw gave him away.

"Oh, Pete," Sarah cried. "He's just been so weak…"

"When did they admit him?" Mav asks quietly.

"Last night, but we were in the ER the whole day while they assessed him."

"Right… I thought he was improving on the chemo?"

"He was, but then he couldn't eat or drink anything, couldn't keep anything down, not even water, and then he got really dehydrated so I had to bring him in. Then they found a nasty underlying infection, and that's the biggest battle right now."

Maverick released a long, slow sigh at that, battling his fear over potentially losing his best friend again. He closed his eyes and focused his energy on comforting Sarah. "Okay, he will beat this, he's the strongest and most stubborn son of a bitch we know, right?"

Daniel piped up. "Well…Uncle Mav, sometimes you can also be—"

"Hold that thought, Danny," Maverick interrupted with a small smile. "I fully acknowledge how stubborn I am, but your dad is…more stubborn." Maverick glanced at Ice, as if this discussion would wake him and give him a chance to argue. He frowned slightly when Ice didn't react. Damn it.

"I know what you're trying to do," Sarah muttered into Maverick's shoulder.

"And what's that, Sunshine?"

"You're trying to distract me from what's happening."

"Maybe just a little. Trying to distract myself as well," he agreed, rubbing her back.

"Fair enough."

"Have you eaten, Sarah?" Maverick asked her softly, still holding her close and frowning when she shook her head. "You need to eat something, Sarah Sunshine."

"Can't."

"I see that Kazansky stubbornness has rubbed off on you," Maverick commented lightly as he kissed her hair.

"That'll happen when you've been married twenty-five years," she muttered, finally loosening her hold on her friend and taking a small step back, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes and sniffling.

Maverick handed her a few tissues before taking one for himself and then turning his attention back to his wingman, thankfully still asleep and oblivious. He stepped toward the bed and gently brushed his fingertips over the back of Ice's hand, glancing back at Sarah as he did so, his expression mournful.

Daniel glanced between his mother and his uncle, then sighed and stood up, stretching like a cat. He went straight to Maverick and reached for him and Maverick hugged him gratefully.

"Hey Danny boy…good to see you. Where's your sister?"

"I sent her home to take a nap," Sarah answered. "The stress isn't good for her right now."

Maverick raised his eyebrows. "The stress isn't good for anyone…" he said, confused, because Felicity was never a girl to run from difficulty, especially when her father was sick…

Sarah gave him a small smile and shook her head a little. "Felicity's pregnant, Mav."

A beaming smile took over his face. "She is?"

Sarah nodded. "She just found out a week ago. Ray is over the moon excited. Felicity is…nauseous."

"Oh my God, you're gonna be grandparents!" Maverick exclaimed, his joyful smile lighting up his entire face, until reality hit him and the smile faded as quickly as it had appeared, and his gaze again turned to Ice.

"Does he know?" Maverick asked, his voice so quiet it was almost inaudible, his eyes glued to his wingman's sleeping face.

"No," Sarah replied. "She was going to tell us this weekend over dinner. But she ended up telling me yesterday when they brought him back for more testing, and she's terrified that he'll never know," she said this in as steady a voice as she could muster, arms wrapped around herself, shaking a little. Daniel wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"It's okay, Mom."

"Is it?" She retorted as she wiped her eyes. "It doesn't seem like it."

"Dad's strong, Mom. He would never go down without a fight," her son reminded her, and she finally dipped her head once in acquiescence.

"Fair enough, my son."

"Come on, Ma. Let's go get a little something to eat."

Her eyes flashed wide in panic and Maverick reached for her arm and squeezed it. "I'm not leaving him, Sarah. Not ever. Not even if his security detail tries to throw me out, okay?"

She nodded gratefully and hugged him once more. "Give him a talking-to, Mav. Tell him to wake his ass up."

He chuckled. "Oh I will. I promise."

She rubbed her forehead. "I almost forgot: Slider should be here any minute as well."

"Oh, great, we could use the backup," Maverick replied, his shoulders sagging a little in relief. Slider would be a welcome helper, and he needed to be there and see Ice for himself almost as much as Maverick did.

Once Sarah and Daniel left, Maverick sagged into the chair on Ice's right, where Sarah had been a few minutes ago. He tentatively held his friend's hand, gently at first and then tighter, then doing as Sarah did and pressing Tom's hand to his forehead. "Come on, Ice. Come on. We didn't survive all those battles for you to be taken out like this," he urged, eyes flicking over Ice's face as if waiting for a response. "Come on, you icy bastard."

The monitors continued their steady beeps and tones, and Ice still did not move. Maverick watched the fluids and medicines drip from their bags into the tubes, listened to Ice's breathing that was thankfully steady - the oxygen mask was for added support, it wasn't a ventilator, and Maverick had been in the hospital enough to know how to somewhat read the monitor, and could see that Ice's pulse-ox was 94: not great, but certainly not the worst it could be.

Blood pressure seemed low, though…

As if on cue, the cuff kicked into gear to get a new reading, and Maverick's heart sank when he saw it was lower than before. Shit…is that bad? Or good considering he has an infection? That much he didn't know.

"Oh, Ice…you can't leave us. Not yet. Not now. Come on, Ice," Maverick pleaded, eyes skating over his wingman's pale, ghostly face, feeling his throat tighten at the dark circles under Ice's eyes, at how thin his wingman had become, and was reminded instantly of how Carole looked in her last days, tears starting to prick his eyes then.

No…Ice…No, please…

He couldn't help the tears that spilled down his cheeks then, lost in memories. The ones from long ago, from landing back on the deck of the Enterprise when the rivalry and awkwardness between them lifted, when they vowed wingmanship…when Sarah and Ice had asked everyone to come to the O Club and they'd showed up with a sparkly ring on Sarah's finger, announcing their engagement… the look of wonder on Ice's face whenever he held his newborn daughter in his hands… Ice bursting into the waiting room to tell everyone their second baby was a boy, his son… Ice showing up in Mav's hospital room in Germany… missions they flew together… the support Ice and Sarah offered him when the blowup with Bradley happened…and many other memories flashed before his eyes as he clutched at Ice's hand, throat choked and eyes swollen.

"Ice…don't leave us. We all need you…" he kissed Ice's hand even, quickly, and then searching his friend's face as the minutes ticked by.

He remembered Carole again, weak and small in her bed - how thankful they'd been that her doctors had allowed her to pass peacefully at home with the hospice nurse there - would that be Ice's fate? Would the doctor come in and tell them to prepare for the end? Sigh heavily and give them the same look of pity that Carole's doctor had? Maverick wasn't sure if he could take that again…

There was a light knock at the door - too light to be Slider's fist - and Maverick quietly called, "come in." A nurse came in then and gave him a wan smile.

"Just need to draw some blood from the Admiral. Are you a family member?"

Maverick considered that question for a moment: the Kazanskys were really his only family now, considering… oh, Bradley… I'm sorry…

He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. "Yes, I am."

She nodded kindly as she drew a few vials of blood. "Once the lab processes these the doctor will have a better idea of what's going on and how to treat it, okay?"

"Alright. And how long will that take do you think?"

"Could be an hour, could be a few hours, it just depends."

Maverick bristled. Didn't they know how important their patient was?! That he had a family that was practically beside themselves with worry? That he has cancer and needed timely treatment?

He took a long slow breath. It wasn't the nurse's fault, he reminded himself, and Ice did appear to be stable, at least as far as he could tell. He did note the nurse's small frown as she checked the monitors and recorded some numbers on the chart, but then she was swiftly out the door, vials of Ice's blood in her hand.

"Fuck," he muttered, holding Ice's hand to his forehead again, then startling when Ice twitched and made a soft, low noise. "Tom?"

The man's blue eyes blinked open then squinted against the light.

"Oh, fucking shit, Tom! You're awake!"

Tom blinked at him again as Maverick rose from the chair and sat on the bed next to him, still holding his hand, Mav's other hand touching Tom's face for a minute and then grabbing his shoulder.

Tom tried to shift and then winced, and made an "up" gesture with a finger, and Mav nodded, reaching out and pressing the button that raised the head of the bed so Ice was sitting up a little more, and stopping when Ice held up his palm, sagging back against the pillows, head still lolled to the side as he squinted at Maverick.

"Hey, wingman," he breathed, now laying a hand on Ice's stomach gently. "How ya doin?"

Ice held out a hand flat with the palm down and wiggled it from side to side, his head still limply resting against the pillows, and that hand dropped to the bed like a puppet arm whose strings had been cut.

"So in other words really bad?" Maverick snorted, knowing that if Ice said he was "kinda okay" with that hand gesture then he was worse than he was actually saying. Stubborn ass.

Ice merely shrugged, and Maverick's eyes sparkled a little, trying to keep things light to bring Ice's spirits up. "I kind of like you like this, you know. Unable to argue with me."

Ice flipped him off in response, and Maverick chuckled a genuine laugh, gripping Ice's other hand tighter. He saw Ice's eyes flick around the room and then rest on Maverick's again. He held up his left hand and wiggled his ring finger, which was absent of his wedding ring but boasted a bold tan line in spite of how pale Tom had become.

"Sarah has your ring," Maverick assured him, assuming that was true because who else would have it. He knew they probably would have taken the ring off when he was admitted.

Ice shook his head and wiggled his finger harder than made a big show of looking around the room, lifting his head as much as he could manage. Come on, Mav…

"Ice, I don't…" he swallowed at the desperate look on his friend's face and then finally understood. "Oh. Sarah's fine. Daniel took her downstairs to get something to eat."

Ice seemed to sag back against the pillows in relief at that, closing his eyes for a few minutes, long enough that Maverick thought he'd fallen back to sleep, so he pulled his phone out and texted Sarah and then Slider.

But Maverick startled when he heard a low guttural noise come from Ice (which was all Ice could really manage right then), who was pawing at the mask, and Maverick immediately reached out and gently lifted it off of Ice, who then nodded his thanks and held a hand up, mimicking a writing motion.

"Okay, Ice, one minute," Maverick assured him as he glanced around the room for paper and pen. Sarah must have thankfully thought ahead or asked the nurses because he found a legal pad and pen on the small counter where the sink and soap and hand sanitizer were.

Maverick handed them over and Ice began to write, still leaned heavily back against the pillows, and showed him the pad after a moment.

When did I get here?

"Two days ago. Sarah brought you in because you couldn't keep anything down and got dehydrated. Turns out you have some nasty infection."

Because chemo isn't bad enough

Maverick's face softened. "I'm so sorry, old friend. Can I get you anything?"

A Time Machine. And something for pain please

Maverick's lip twitched. Ice was just like him when it came to pain meds: the fact that he was asking meant he must've really needed them. "Can't do much for a Time Machine, Tom, unless you requisition me a Delorean." He grinned when Ice rolled his eyes and shook his head. "But I can call for the nurse," he added as he leaned over and pressed the call button.

The same nurse returned a moment later, eyebrows raised. "Are you alright, Admiral?"

Tom held up the pad as Maverick told her, "he's asking for something for the pain."

"Oh, alright Admiral, I'll go let the doctor know, should only be a few minutes."

Ice gave her a thankful nod as she exited, then turned to Maverick again, handing his wingman the pad and pen.

"You don't want to write anymore?" Maverick guessed as Ice gave another nod, his eyes closing and a sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead. "Okay, Tom. Sarah and Daniel are on their way up, alright?"

Tom only blinked rapidly and groped his hand over the sheets, searching for Mav's hand, and Maverick took it immediately, trying to speak soothingly and steady the waver in his voice. "I'm here, wingman. I'm here. And Slider will be here soon, too."

Tom closed his eyes, pinching them shut in pain, trying to stay awake long enough to see his wife and son.

Sarah and Daniel thankfully entered only a minute later, a little breathless, Sarah immediately sitting on Tom's other side opposite Maverick. "Hi, baby," she whispered as she leaned over and kissed his forehead, stroking his cheek. He cracked his eyes open for her - anything for her - and he tried to smile but he couldn't. She could read the look in his eyes though. "I know, sweetheart, I know. You can sleep, it's okay…I love you, Tom."

He nodded once, blinking rapidly at her, his free hand reaching for her and managing to grip her forearm. He made another small, low noise in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut in frustration - to not even be able to speak…!

"Shhh, my dearest husband, I'm here, you just need to rest."

His eyes opened slightly and narrowed (rest? Me? Do you remember who you married?) even though he barely had the energy to lift his head - challenging her, if only in jest - and she rolled her eyes and stroked his cheek.

"That look might work on your subordinates but it doesn't work on me, you know that," she chided gently. His eyes softened, still gripping Maverick's hand and Sarah's arm, adjusting so he was holding her hand tightly as well. His eyes were pleading now, and Sarah felt her heart jump into her throat when she saw a tear trickle down Tom's face, how tense his jaw was.

A glance at the monitor told her his blood pressure was now higher, as was his heart rate. He was definitely in pain… whatever they gave him earlier had clearly worn off.

Daniel also saw the monitor and huffed out a breath before turning on his heel and walking to the nurses' station.

"I already paged them," Maverick muttered, but didn't get up to stop the younger Kazansky and rubbed his forehead instead.

The same nurse came back in with a syringe in hand, frowning a little. "Okay, Admiral, I'm going to give you a little something now, the lab has your sample and they should be running it soon," she soothed, all business but not unkind. He closed his eyes and opened them in response, unable to really even nod now. His body sagged in relief almost immediately after she gave the injection in his IV, and she offered Sarah a soft smile.

"He will probably sleep for quite a while again, which honestly is the best thing for him right now. I've paged Dr. Cotton and once the lab results are in he'll come in to see him, alright?" At Sarah's small nod the nurse added, "please feel free to hit the call button again if you need me, Mrs. Kazansky," as she gently adjusted the oxygen mask back over Iceman's mouth and nose.

"Thank you, Sophie."

"Of course, ma'am." And with that Sophie swept out of the room and gently closed the door behind her, and Daniel sagged back against it.

"Did Dad say anything?" He asked Maverick quietly, his eyes glued to his father's face. Maverick handed him the pad.

"Just this. And he could barely write those three things. He did have the energy to flip me off though," Maverick told him with a half-smile as Daniel managed a grin.

"He must be feeling at least an iota better then."

"Possibly. He doesn't need much of an excuse to give me the bird though."

A memory from a lifetime ago floated into his vision.

Well, we were keeping up foreign relations.

Excuse me, Lieutenant?

You know…the finger?

Yes, I know the finger, Goose…

Oh, I'm sorry I hate when it does that.

Maverick chuckled lightly and Sarah and Daniel both glanced at him. "Sorry… do either of you know the story of the MiG I ah…gave the finger to?"

Sarah nodded and also laughed lightly while Daniel stared at him, his mouth dropped open.

"You what?"

Mav turned slightly, looking at the younger man over his shoulder, still sitting on the bed and holding Ice's hand. "I can't believe neither of us ever told you that story! It was just before we were assigned to TOPGUN…"

Daniel was laughing heartily by the time the story was done, his worry about his father momentarily forgotten. Maverick was laughing too, but missing Goose deeply then, and wishing he was there to ease their anxiety and offer his support.

He sighed heavily then and turned his attention back to Ice, who was limp and pale in the bed - the pain meds had done their job, thankfully.

A heavy silence fell over the room. Sarah was holding Tom's hand to her cheek and softly rocking back and forth, humming a song Maverick recognized after a moment ("Fools Rush In", the song Tom and Sarah danced to at their wedding) and he just kept a steady watch on his friend's face, feeling frozen in place as the seconds ticked away.

After about another half hour he needed to stand and stretch and yielded his spot to Daniel, pacing around the room until they heard another knock on the door, this one more forceful.

"Come in," Sarah called, and Slider burst in just like Maverick had.

"Sarah? Mav? Oh, Danny, hey kiddo…" Slider was breathless, like he'd ran up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator (he had). He stumbled closer to the bed and ran a hand over his face, then looked between Sarah, Maverick, and Daniel, his eyes wide as he tried to calm himself.

"Is…what's…" his eyes fell to Ice's face again as he put his hand on his cheek. It was as though his throat was full of cotton. "What did the doctor say?" He finally mumbled out.

Sarah walked around the bed and put her hand on his arm. "He has an infection somehow, my guess is because the chemo has wrecked his immune system. He wasn't able to eat or drink anything so I brought him in. He's also been in a lot of pain. They just gave him something a little while ago and he's been asleep since then," she explained, in as clinical a manner as she could.

Ron sighed and pulled her close, bending down to hug her properly. "I'm so sorry, Sarah, I really thought we were past this."

"We were, for a while," she muttered as she hugged him back.

"Not long enough," he replied as he pulled back and rubbed his eyes, then sitting next to Ice on the bed, staring at his friend's still face for a minute or so. He heard some sniffling behind him and knew it was Maverick. Slider squeezed Tom's hand hard for just a moment before standing and turning to Mav.

"Hey, Pete, let's go take a walk, come on."

Maverick's head whipped up, his eyes fierce. "No. No way, you just got here, and I don't wanna leave him."

"Maverick—"

"No! No! He never left his wingman and I'm not leaving him, he—" Maverick had to take a deep breath and swallow hard as more tears hit his eyes and he started to curl into himself.

"Just for a minute, man, come on," Slider gently urged him, taking Maverick by the arm and pulling him into the hallway and not stopping until they found the private family waiting room at the end of the hall.

Slider glanced inside, relieved it was empty, and pulled Maverick inside with him before shutting the door. "Come on, Mav, come on."

Maverick sat down hard in a chair and buried his face in his hands, his back shaking and heaving. Slider sat down heavily next to him and put a hand on Maverick's back, pressing gently.

"Just let it out, Maverick."

"…what?"

"You think I don't know you almost as well as our asshole friend does? I saw it in your eyes: you don't want to break down in front of Sarah and Danny but it's eating you up, so come on…let it out. We're in a private little room and who gives a shit how loud you are anyway?"

Maverick only sniffled and Slider could see a few tears slide off Mav's nose and hit the industrial carpet.

"Mav, I know you're scared to lose him. So am I! It's okay, though. I mean…it's not and it sucks but…" he rubbed Maverick's back firmly. "I'm here, and you're here, and—"

"It's not just that…" Maverick muttered, his voice thick. "I…it's Bradley…he should be here…he's part of our family and he should be here, Ron!"

Slider sighed heavily and closed his eyes in pain, pressing his hand harder into Maverick's back, feeling the knotted muscles and the tension in the other man's body as he shook with suppressed cries again. "Oh…Mav…"

"I called him in the cab. He didn't answer, so I tried him again, and still nothing. I left him a voicemail and then even sent him a text and I don't know if he's read it or not… it's not like I'm asking him to come for me, it's for Ice and for Sarah…I…"

He sat back suddenly, so suddenly that Ron's hand was temporarily trapped between Mav's back and the chair.

Maverick's eyes were wide and wild with tears and anger. "I would understand if it was me, Sli. I'd hate me too, and dammit if there aren't a lot of days I do anyway. But… for God's sake the kid should at least say goodbye to him…I…shit…"

Ron held those green eyes' gaze, as hard as it was to watch Maverick like this. Ron could almost physically see the emotions tearing Maverick apart in that moment: guilt, grief, anger, and maybe even a little hope. He knew Maverick had been burying his emotions down deep and was glad he'd yanked him into this waiting room before it had all burst out of him.

So he simply reached out and pulled Maverick to him when the sobbing predictably hit him again, Maverick's hand fisted in Ron's shirt, and it was several minutes before he managed to speak again, his voice thick with tears.

"They, God…Ice and Sarah, and you… you were all around him almost as much as I was. Teaching him, caring for him…he'd sleep over at Ice and Sarah's sometimes when I was deployed and Carole needed a break, or just with Sarah when we were all deployed together. Sarah taught him piano, for Chrissakes…I've sent him cards, emails, texts, and not a word." He shook his head, rubbing his forehead at first and then swiping both hands over his face slowly as he leaned back from his friend's hold. "Again, I understand ignoring me, but…"

"Maverick. Do you want me to call him?"

"I—"

"Because I will. Right now," Slider assured him, his voice resolute. Maverick was correct: even if the kid hated Mav this was Iceman they were calling about. Bradley hadn't been around for the first go-round with cancer, and it seemed to be so much worse this time…

"Slider, I don't…I don't know," Maverick replied honestly, suddenly fearful and wasn't sure why.

Ron pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pulled up Bradley's contact card. "This is the number, right?" At Maverick's stunned nod he dialed and held the phone to his ear.

To his shock, Bradley picked up after three rings.

"Hello?" He seemed curious, so Ron figured Bradley didn't have his number saved.

"Is this Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw?"

"…it is…"

"This is Rear Admiral Ron Kerner."

"Ad— Slider?"

"Lieutenant…?" Ron used his sternest voice, almost a growl, the gentlest reminder about their different ranks and the expected decorum that he could manage in that moment.

"I mean, s-sorry, sir. Yes, this is Lieutenant Bradshaw." The kid's nervousness and confusion were practically palpable through the phone, and Slider had to hold back a smile.

"Listen, kid," Slider began, dropping some of the formality. "It's…I'm calling because…" he wasn't sure how to phrase it; tact wasn't exactly his specialty.

"It's Maverick, isn't it?" Bradley asked with a sigh, tinged with…was that disappointment? Not disappointment that Maverick might be hurt, more like disappointment in him…but Slider didn't have the time or the energy to analyze it.

"No," he stated firmly. "Although he - Captain Mitchell - is with me at the moment. It's about Admiral Tom Kazansky." Slider was emphasizing ranks for several reasons, one of them being his own way of reminding the kid that at the very least he was not on friendly terms with Bradley at the moment, even as much as Maverick longed to see the kid.

"Uncle Ice?"

Slider snorted, fighting back the urge to verbally flay Bradshaw alive and ask him why he'd think, after ten years, he still had the right to call Tom that… and then he saw the mixture of heartbroken and hopeful in Maverick's eyes and sighed instead. "Yeah, kid. His throat cancer is back and…well they're not sure what's going to happen at this point, if he's going to pull through or not. He's pretty sick."

"Oh. Um, sir, I don't…I…"

Slider turned on the speakerphone because Maverick was glued to his side trying to hear Bradley's voice through the phone. "Look, we just wanted you to know. He's here at Naval Medical in San Diego."

"Oh, um, I'm stationed at Whidbey Island. Sir."

Maverick's eyebrows raised a hair. He was in Washington state but at least on the same side of the country.

He heard Bradley blow out a puff of air. "Is this what Maverick keeps calling me about?" He asked in a mildly annoyed tone, and Slider's eyes narrowed to slits as Maverick's widened.

"Yeah, kid, it probably is. It's kind of a big deal, ya know? It's not like Ice is a stranger." More of a stranger now than he's ever been, Slider thought, but he was trying to get his point across.

Bradley still didn't say anything, and Slider thought he heard the younger man sigh heavily over the phone, as if debating on what to say.

"Listen, Rooster—"

Rooster? Maverick thought. Is that his callsign? His heart aches at how little he knows of the boy - the young man - now.

"I get why you're angry. I do, truly. And I'm not going to tell you what you should and should not feel, because that's not my place. But it's been ten years. A decade. And Ice is really sick. You don't even have to talk to us if that's what you want. We just want to give you the opportunity to say goodbye just in case." Slider's not sure how he kept his voice so steady, even with all of his training and years of being Ice's best friend.

There was only silence coming from the other end of the line, and Ron had to check to see if Bradley had hung up, his brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak again but Bradley beat him to it.

"Listen…I appreciate you calling and everything but…"

"Bradley, did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah, I did. But I…" I don't know how to face him, how to face Ice, he wanted to say. I don't want to see Maverick, or talk to him.

Slider did say you wouldn't have to talk to any of them, a quiet voice in Bradley's head reminded him. You could get leave for a day or two and go down there. You'll regret it if you don't.

Rooster shook off the traitorous voice. No. No, too much time had passed. He wouldn't be welcomed back now, and to see Maverick…no.

"You can send the family my regards, but…no. I won't be coming. I have no desire to see him."

"Bradshaw…"

"Are you ordering me, sir?"

Slider was tempted to do so, actually, but he couldn't, not really, and Ice would hate it if the boy - young man - had only come to visit due to being forced to by Slider.

"No, Lieutenant, I'm not. I'm asking you, though. It's been ten years," Slider repeated, trying to drive the point home.

"I…" Bradley started to respond, and then sighed heavily, almost sounding mournful, and Maverick's breath caught in his throat, which made something tighten painfully in Slider's chest.

"Please, kiddo. This has to end," Slider said once more, trying to get through to him.

Longing and anger were colliding in Bradley's heart, battling each other, but anger is tied to fear, and fear is a powerful emotion.

"No. You can give Admiral Kazansky my regards, but—"

"What about Sarah? And Daniel and Felicity? Don't you want to see them? Or us? I know it's been a long time, but your family is still here, kid, we—"

No. No he couldn't go back, he wouldn't!

Although…

Could he?

Would he?

No. No!

He knew better. He wouldn't be welcomed back. And there was also the small matter of…

"My family, sir? I thought family meant we don't keep secrets from one another."

Slider was puzzled for a moment. "Secrets? What secrets?"

"As in why exactly Maverick pulled my papers. Don't give me the crap he gave me all those years ago. I know he had another reason and neither he nor any of you will tell me what it was. So…are you going to tell me?"

Slider glanced at Maverick who seemed to be frozen before he shook his head quickly.

"Ah, it's not that simple, kid…"

"Is that all then, sir?" Bradley replied sharply, in as flat a voice as he could manage.

Slider's eyes went wide and he glanced at Maverick's face, which was haunted and pale. "Yeah…just…think about it, okay?"

There were a few weighty moments of silence before they heard a curt, "Goodbye, sir," and then the awful click of the call ending.

The two men sat together in shocked silence, Slider still holding his cellphone in his palm and staring at it like he'd never quite seen it before. Maverick was breathing heavily through his nose, and Slider knew him well enough to know the man was probably headed for another breakdown of some kind, one of his bad ones. Between what the kid had just said and Ice being in the hospital…

Maverick leapt to his feet and paced the room, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose, then running his hands over his face, then his neck, still pacing tightly, like he was on parade.

Slider could only look at him helplessly, shoving aside his anger to focus his worry on his friend, wishing Ice was there to handle this, talk to Maverick in that way of his. But Ice was incapacitated, and he needed to do something…

"Pete, man, take a deep breath for me."

Maverick jerked his head in Slider's direction, glancing at him, then continuing to pace but at least his speed had slowed a little.

Slider's phone buzzed in his hand and he looked at it quizzically before sighing in relief. Hollywood and Wolfman had finally gotten there, thanks to the strings he'd had to pull. Both men were retiring soon but still had to get permission to come. He texted them Ice's room number and exactly where he and Maverick were.

"I need to get back in there," Maverick muttered, looking at Slider now with mournful and red-rimmed eyes. "I'm…I…"

Slider could see it simmering in Maverick's eyes: the need to escape, to run, to hide from the maelstrom of emotions wreaking havoc in him.

"It's alright, Maverick. You're okay."

"I left my wingman, Ron." I can't fail anyone else, Ron…

"We had to, Mav, it's okay. Stay with me here for just another few minutes," he soothed, wanting him to stay in the waiting room until Wolf and Wood got there at the very least.

Maverick only huffed and sniffed and hugged his arms around himself as he paced.

One, two, three, four, five, turn…

There was a soft knock on the door and both men straightened as one, then two familiar and welcome faces appeared.

"Mav, Ron, hey…"

"Thanks for pulling strings for us, Sli."

Slider stood and shook Hollywood's hand before pulling the other man into a quick hug. "What's the point of being an admiral if you can't ask for favors now and then?" He asked with a tinge of irony, knowing how often Ice stepped in for Maverick even though Mav never once asked him to. "I only just got here myself, and Maverick got here a few hours ago."

Wolfman hugged Ron next and then went straight for Maverick, yanking him into a firm, warm hug. Maverick went willingly, sagging into Wolf's embrace.

"I know, Pete, I know," Wolf murmured, feeling the tension and trembling in Mav's shoulders and back, glancing at his husband and Slider over Maverick's shoulder. "Reinforcements are here, buddy, we're here, I've got you."

Slider cleared his throat, wanting to tell the two men about their call with Bradley and explain this other facet to Maverick's darkened mood, but not wanting to upset Maverick further by bringing it up. It was so fresh, and—

"Oh, I hoped I'd find you guys here," a soft, tired voice said from the doorway, and three of the four men looked up sharply, then softened when they saw Sarah leaning on the doorframe.

Hollywood got to her first, hugging her and tucking her under his chin as she pressed her face into his chest. "Hey, Sunshine, we were just going to come find you," he told her softly, planting a kiss in her hair.

She nodded against his shoulder before they pulled back, and she was wiping at her eyes as she explained. "The doctor came in and asked me to come in here, said they had more tests to run, and an MRI, so…here I am," she added with a shrug, managing a small smile as Wolf gently let go of Maverick so he could hug her as well.

Rick took advantage and put an arm around Mav's shoulders tightly, hugging him close for a second. Mav's face was blank, his eyes and nose red, and that blank look was more worrisome to Hollywood than any crying or even anger would have been.

Daniel walked in a minute later, his face somber but lighting up at the sight of his uncles. It was another round of greetings and hugs before they all sat in the chairs, pulling a few around so they were in a sort of semi-circle.

Maverick opted to go sit alone in the corner for a while, however, his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. Both Sarah and Wolf made as if to go to him but Slider stopped them both.

"Just…Just trust me and let Mav have a few minutes to himself."

Wolf nodded and leaned against Wood, looping their arms, and Sarah looked dubious but settled for twisting a tissue in her hands until it was in shreds. Slider kept one eye on Maverick while they made small talk with Daniel, asking him about the Academy, and the older men sharing stories of their time there.

The minutes crept by, nagging at all of them in the back of their minds. They all jumped at a gentle knock on the door, hoping it was the doctor, but instead it was a man who had become as ingrained in the Kazansky family as any of them, Ice's stalwart aide, sandy-blond hair uncharacteristically askew and eyes wide with worry.

"Oh, Eric," Sarah breathed. "There you are."

He nodded, adjusting the strap of his laptop bag on his shoulder. "Yes, ma'am. I had some things to wrap up on base that I couldn't deal with remotely. But I'm here now and won't be leaving any time soon," he declared as he addressed the older men. "Admiral Kerner, sir, good to see you. Captain Neven, Captain Wolfe-Neven, you as well."

Hollywood gave him a wan smile. "Shorty, we're all off duty, you know; you don't have to be so formal."

Shorty snorted and flashed him a smile. "I like to start off formal and then ease off," he replied as he took a seat a few spots down from Wolf and glancing at Maverick over in the corner. "Is Captain Mitchell…"

"We're giving him some space right now, Eric."

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Kazansky. I, um…I went to the Admiral's room and he wasn't there…" he trailed off, his eyes flickering across all of their faces. "Did… have they said…" he trailed off, swallowing hard.

Sarah looked at him in sympathy. Eric had been Ice's aide for years, had declined a different assignment twice just to stay with Tom. She knew Tom was partially annoyed that the young man wasn't moving on to "better" assignments but was also secretly a little pleased and happy to keep Eric around.

"Well," Tom had told her one night when they were discussing it months ago. "We get along so well, and I'm not in the mood to break in a new aide right now. He's at the point where he practically knows what I need before I ask."

And Sarah also knew that in Tom, Shorty had found the father figure he'd never had. Hell, the lieutenant was now even a staple at Kazansky Thanksgivings.

"They've taken him down to run more tests. We don't really know much at this point," Danny answered for his mother with a small shrug as Eric pursed his lips in thought, then exhaled a long breath and opened his laptop.

"I see. Well…I'll just get to work on his emails then," Shorty replied curtly, trying to hide his distress over his boss' illness, and tugging his uniform shirt into place before he heavily sat in the nearest chair.

They lapsed into a heavy silence for a few minutes, not awkward, just… pensive. Daniel held his mother's hand, and Hollywood held his husband's, their fingers tightly interlaced. Wolf kept his head on Wood's shoulder and his eyes on Maverick, who was practically in a ball in the chair, his back to them. Slider texted his wife to update her and tell her how much he loved her. The only sound in the thick silence was Shorty delicately typing, the steady clacking of the keys almost comforting.

Minutes crept on. Slider, Hollywood, or Wolf would check on Maverick occasionally, and he'd murmur that he was fine, and they'd sit again. Over and over. They'd get back into idle chatter, sharing stories with Daniel and Shorty, or updating one another on the minutiae of their lives, then lapse into silence again. Minutes turned into an hour and a half before they realized it.

Another familiar pair of faces appeared tentatively at the door, this time Sarah and Ice's daughter Felicity with her new husband, Raymond.

"Mom?" She called softly, then her face lighting up as her brother's had. "Oh, thank God, the Calvary is here," she breathed as Slider, Wood, and Wolf all stood, hugging her warmly and shaking Ray's hand. Ray was still getting used to Felicity's abundance of uncles but was so far acclimating into the family just fine.

"So glad to see you, Happiness," Hollywood murmured as he kissed her cheek. She went to sit down and noticed Maverick still in the corner. He hadn't moved or reacted when she came in, and that was concerning for all of them. No one had checked on him in an hour, and…

She did the same as her mother, making a move towards him, when Slider stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Happiness, love, this may not be the best time to—"

But she shook him off and went to Maverick, touching him lightly on the shoulder so as not to startle him too badly, like her dad had taught her, then kneeling in front of him on the industrial carpet.

"Uncle Mav," she whispered. "Hey…" she put a hand on his knee lightly, tentatively.

He'd been sitting with his face resting against his clasped hands, eyes shut, blocking out the world, and he remained that way, not even reacting to her light touch. She could see the chain of Goose's dog tags wrapped around his wrist and knew the tags themselves were tucked safely in his fist.

"Maverick…it's okay…"

Her words barely reached him, but they did break through, like a whisper on a breeze, and his brain told his eyes to open but they wouldn't.

"Uncle Mav…Pete…look at me, please."

His eyes finally cracked open slightly at her voice, at her pleading, for his wingman's daughter who had grown up in front of his very eyes.

It was years ago, after Maverick and Bradley'd had a big fight, both tense and sorrowful because the chemo had stopped working and there was nothing else the doctors could do for Carole. It was over something stupid, like Bradley not wanting to do his homework and Maverick insisting he do it to keep his grades up in spite of what was happening around them, and Maverick losing his temper with the boy.

"I shouldn't have done that, Ice," Maverick muttered into his beer as his wingman regarded him carefully. "It's no wonder he isn't worrying about schoolwork right now, but…I…I shouldn't have lost it on him like that, and I shouldn't have left."

Iceman merely sighed and laid a heavy hand on his wingman's shoulder. "You're both under a lot of stress right now, we all are, really. You'll make up like you always do, Mav."

Maverick shook his head, and it hurt Tom's heart to see Maverick so despondent. "I don't know why you even let me around your kids, Ice. I'm just going to screw them up like I'm screwing up Bradley."

Tom straightened immediately at that, turning so he was fully facing his friend. "Now you look at me, Pete Mitchell. Look at me," he commanded sharply.

Pete obeyed, sheepishly glancing up into Tom's eyes.

"My kids, and Bradley, adore you. You are not 'screwing up' any of them. From you they learn bravery, how to have a lion's heart, how to be kind and forgiving."

Maverick's eyes had begun to shine with tears at his wingman's proclamations, and he was rubbing at the label on the beer bottle with his thumb while paying rapt attention to Ice.

"You are allowed to have big feelings, Pete. Especially now, especially with what Carole means to you, to all of us. It's like losing your sister, I know that, and so does Bradley. But he's a teenager, and the reality of losing his mother is hitting him. And you both lash out when stressed. But it's okay, Mav. Do you hear me?"

Maverick nodded, but of course couldn't let himself off the hook that easily. "I caused this, Ice."

Tom had snorted and taken a swig of his own beer. "And how in the hell do you figure that, Maverick? How did you cause Carole's cancer?"

Maverick sighed and rubbed at the label with his thumb some more, unable to meet Tom's eyes, but he could feel his wingman's stare boring a hole in his head. Knowing Ice wasn't going to let up until he answered, Maverick swallowed hard and finally tried to answer. "I…well…maybe if Goose was—"

"No. Stop that line of thinking right now, Maverick. There is nothing any of us could have done to prevent this. Nothing. It just happened, Maverick. Contrary to what you believe about yourself, not everything is your fault."

Maverick could only blink up at his wingman at that proclamation, and sniffled a little. Whether it was because of what Ice said, because Carole was dying, or because he was thinking of Goose (and the accident that was his fault, regardless of what everyone told him) he wasn't sure. He supposed it was all of it, really, and the guilt that weighed heavily on him after his fight with Bradley.

"I just…worry he's picked up all of my bad habits. Worried about that for your kids too. I wonder if I've been a good role model, I worry that I've done more harm than good, I—"

Ice sighed and set his beer bottle on the bar and slung an arm around Maverick's shoulders, holding the smaller man close to his body for a minute, knowing the contact would stop his wingman's spiraling thoughts, at least for a moment.

"Maverick…you are more than the lies you tell yourself, you hear me? Much more. More than the bullshit you heard about yourself all these years. Got that?"

Maverick had to take a few deep breaths around the lump in his throat. "I…I got it, Ice."

"Yeah?"

"Well…working on it."

"And that's good enough for now, Mav. One day at a time."

His heart felt cracked in two, any healing that was done seemed to be destroyed now.

I'll have no one soon…Bradley is gone and Goose is gone, Carole is gone, soon Ice will be gone and then they'll all leave me, alone alone alone like I deserve to be—

His eyes finally focused on her a little, enough that Felicity huffed out a sympathetic sigh before she lifted her arms and wrapped him in a hug. He stiffened for a second before his hands unclasped and he hugged her back, gently, unsure of how hard he could hold her, if he trusted himself enough not to hurt her…

"We're all here, Mav. You're not alone," she assured him, mimicking how she'd seen her father act when Maverick was having a panic attack or dissociative episode.

There was another hand on Maverick's shoulder, and then on the other, and one on his back — he was surrounded. Wolf was on his right, warm hand pressed to his back. Slider and Hollywood stood behind Felicity, reaching out to put hands on his head, his shoulder. Daniel knelt on the floor next to his sister. Even Ray and Eric stood close in support.

Sarah sat in the other seat next to him on his left, her legs tucked up and her arm securely around him, her head on his shoulder. "We're here, Pete, we're all together," she whispered in his ear, and at the feeling of her tears on his neck he reflexively reached out and pulled her close, sitting back a little, and the dam broke for both of them.

No one spoke, no one needed to, they just let them cry (or cried with them), but Hollywood did notice the dark and — was that guilt on Slider's face? — pensive stance Slider had taken, as none of them but Ron knew about the phone call to Bradley. Rick simply put a hand on his friend's back.

Shorty had been doing his best to be a stoic example of a naval officer but even all of his time with Iceman wasn't enough to fully shove back his emotions and worries, and had to cover his mouth with his hand. Ray dutifully found some Kleenex boxes and handed them out or laid them in reach of several "family" members.

Maverick's tears died down along with Sarah's, and they dabbed each other's faces with tissues, giving each other watery smiles, then gathering others into hugs.

Maverick squeezed Felicity extra tight. "Thank you, Happiness."

"For what, Mav?"

"Getting through to me…doing what your father would have done if he'd been in here," he murmured as she hummed.

"Hmm, he taught me well," she agreed, wiping at her face and glancing at her mother, who was in the midst of a bear hug from Wolfman. "You know…with all of this carrying on… Dad might actually be fine."

Maverick exhaled a long breath. "I hope so, Felicity." A thought then crossed his mind, and that familiar glint returned to his eye. "Becoming a mother has made you wise," he said cheekily, a little louder than his normal volume.

Her eyes went wide and then narrowed at him, knowing she'd now have a horde of overprotective uncles hovering over her.

"What…?!"

"A mother? Since when?!"

"Wow! Are you pregnant, Lis?"

"Damn it, Maverick," she said with gritted teeth. "I wasn't going to tell them yet."

Maverick shrugged and grinned at her, and Felicity had a new understanding of why she sometimes heard her father call Maverick a "little shit" when he didn't know she was listening.

Wolf, Wood, and Slider all surrounded her, and she confirmed that yes she was ten weeks pregnant, then her husband was dragged in to the group hug, grinning as wide as Maverick — at least until Hollywood shoved his shoulder somewhat playfully.

"You be good to our girl, kiddo."

Ray shrugged and smiled at the older man. "Always have been, always will be. You don't marry the daughter of Iceman Kazansky without knowing you have to treat her like a queen."

Felicity smiled warmly at her husband as Slider snorted.

"You got that right. He'd flay you alive, and we'd help him hide the body."

"Damn straight," Maverick muttered, still with the chain secured around his wrist, rubbing Goose's dog tags absently with his thumb but giving Ray a fierce look.

Ray looked at the ceiling for a moment before reaching a hand towards his wife and pulling her close. "Guys, didn't we already have the shovel speech?"

"…maybe…"

"Maybe you need it again…"

"Okay, fellas, that's enough. I'm calling off the hounds," Felicity cut in with a laugh.

"Wait a minute," Wolfman gasped, turning to Sarah, who was again sitting next to Maverick with her arms folded. "You're going to be grandparents!"

Sarah beamed up at him, a tinge of sadness in her eyes. "We are indeed, Leo."

"Does Tom know?" Hollywood asked quietly, his eyes pinched, putting his arm around his husband's shoulders.

Felicity wrapped her arms around herself, looking down at her mother with mournful eyes before she answered. "I was going to tell them this weekend," she muttered to the group. "But…no, Dad doesn't know yet."

"He's only been awake for brief stretches," Sarah explained. "And he's in such pain during those times that…that it's not long before they give him meds again."

A heavy silence falls on the group again as they mulled over what was happening. Sarah simply sighed and tucked herself against Maverick again, thanking the Lord above that these chairs didn't have armrests and weren't too uncomfortable. Mav reflexively put an arm around her again, holding her close, still rubbing Goose's tags in his other hand.

Slider paced around slowly, stretching his neck in slow circles. Wolf, always the most prepared of the bunch (aside from Ice), pulled out a deck of cards and began a quiet game of Gin Rummy with Hollywood and Daniel. Ray and Felicity sat down on the other side of Sarah, lost in their thoughts. And Shorty continued to bury himself in his work so he wouldn't have to think about the illness that threatened to rip a wonderful man away from them all.

Eventually there was another knock on the door and a hesitant voice. "Mrs. Kazansky?"

Sarah had fallen into a light doze on Maverick's shoulder, and so she instantly blinked sleep away as she stood and faced the doctor. "Yes? That's me."

It was a doctor she didn't recognize, but he quickly introduced himself. "I'm Dr. Hayes, I'm an oncology resident working with Dr. Cotton and Dr. Brandt on your husband."

"Alright," she replied simply, reaching down and holding her daughter's proffered hand. "Is…how is he?"

Hayes smiled slightly and Sarah felt her shoulders instantly drop in relief. "He's resting, and it appears that the antibiotics are doing their job, his white count already looks better than it did yesterday and his temperature is down to 101° from 103°."

Sarah exhaled loudly, glancing around the room before meeting the doctor's eyes again. "And…his cancer…?"

Hayes' smile widened slightly. "It does look like the chemotherapy has been doing its job, and the lesions are smaller than they were at his last scan. We did an MRI and another ultrasound to confirm."

Sarah wiped the tears that had sprang to her eyes unbidden, squeezing Felicity's hand. "Okay…so…what now?" She squeaked out, trying to keep her tears of relief contained, wiping at her face again with her free hand.

"We'll keep him for another couple of days to make sure that the antibiotics are still working and that his pain is managed well."

"Can we see him?"

"Like I said, he's resting, but we'll allow two visitors at a time," he replied, and then adding, "although I have a feeling this group will be pushing the rules," when he saw all of the expectant faces turned to him.

"Who, us? No sir, we are rule followers all the way," Wolf quipped as Hollywood covered his mouth with his hand and Slider automatically glanced at Maverick, who met his gaze and shrugged, acknowledging that he wasn't going to follow that rule unless security dragged him out of Iceman's room.

The doctor snorted. "At least stay out of the nurses' way please. But I am only going to allow two of you back there now."

Sarah glanced at her two kids and Daniel nodded towards his older sister, who kissed her brother's cheek before following their mother to Ice's room.

Maverick visibly relaxed a bit, dropping his head back so it rested against the wall, and closing his eyes, still slowly rubbing the tags with his thumb, but his change in posture was enough to make Slider relax a little as well, even as his own guilt ate at him.

Hollywood nudged him and raised his eyebrows, and Slider jerked his head towards the door. Hollywood nodded and the two men quietly exited the room and walked down the hall towards the windows where they wouldn't be overheard.

Slider leaned back against the window, arms folded and eyes closed, his entire body tense, and Hollywood frowned as he got a good look at his friend.

"What's up, Ron?"

Slider sighed heavily, eyes still closed as he waved a hand in the vague direction of the waiting room. "That was…that was my fault, Rick."

Hollywood's brows puckered and his arms folded as he tilted his head at his old friend. "What was, exactly?"

"Maverick."

Hollywood blinked in confusion at that. "…what? Ron, you know as well as anyone how Maverick reacts to stress, how attached he is to Ice, how hospitals resurface his traumas—"

"No. Wood, I…shit…" Slider rubbed his forehead, curling in on himself slightly.

Wood was just standing there with a baffled expression and his arms still folded, clearly not letting this go until Slider finally let it all out.

Slider blew out a long, loud puff of air. "I…okay. I got here, and Mav was close to breaking down, so I took him down to the waiting room, right? And he was crying, which didn't surprise me considering what's going on, you know? But then he said he'd called the kid but of course he didn't answer…just wanted the Little Bird here to say goodbye to Ice just…just in case."

Hollywood softened just a touch, likely seeing where this was headed based on what he and Wolfman had walked into in the waiting room. "Go on, Sli," he urged softly.

"And…it just hit me, how mad I am at how fucked up things have gotten between Mav and the kid, so I…called him."

Hollywood's head reared back slightly, blinking rapidly. "You called Bradley?"

Slider nodded. "Yeah. And it…didn't go well, to say the least."

Hollywood frowned as Slider continued.

"I feel like I almost had the kid convinced to come see Ice. I even told him he wouldn't have to see us, see Mav, if he didn't want to, but…then he doubled down and refused, snarled at Mav on the speaker and then hung up." He ran a hand down his face. "I…I pushed him, Wood. I pushed Mav to let me call Rooster, I just thought I could get through to him, I—"

"Rooster? His callsign is Rooster?" Rick interrupted.

Slider nodded. "I thought I was helping, thought even the kid agreeing to come see Ice would soothe Mav a little, but I only made it worse instead, and…" he let out a low grunt of annoyance directed at himself. "Maverick was already a mess when I got here…"

Hollywood tilted his head and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder in sympathy. "I'm sure he knows you were only trying to help, Ron. Maverick's the most forgiving guy I know, anyway."

Slider nodded. "I know, but…I only wanted to help, to get the kid to at least see Ice or talk to him…I…oh, poor Mav. I feel like I gave him hope and then snatched it away, Rick."

"He'll understand, Ron."

"You can't be sure of that! I need to go find Mav, apologize…"

"Apologize for what?" A familiar, soft voice asked, and Slider lifted his head to see Maverick standing just behind Hollywood, looking sad but concerned, hands in his jacket pockets and brows furrowed.

Slider sagged back against the window, unable to meet Maverick's eyes. "Pete…" he murmured and then covered his eyes with his hands for a moment.

Maverick stepped closer and sighed heavily. "Ron, come on man, talk to me," Maverick encouraged, using similar words that Slider had used with him hours earlier, having a damn good idea what was going on but…

"Mav…'M sorry… shouldn't have pushed you, pushed to call Bradshaw…"

"Oh," Maverick breathed out as he put a hand on Slider's arm, squeezing it. "That's…I know what you were trying to do, it's okay."

"It's really not though, Mav."

"The situation is fucked up but…" that's my fault, he wanted to say out loud, but he knew it would only result in another argument with Wood and Slider, who would protest Mav's guilt. "But I'm not upset with you, I know you thought you could get through to him."

"I almost had him, Mav."

Maverick nodded, his eyes shining a little. "I know. I heard it too. I…I can only hope that he'll think about it and change his mind. Um…" he rubbed at his chin in thought. "Did I hear you call him Rooster?"

Slider blew air out of his cheeks and nodded. "Yeah. That's his callsign. Not sure entirely how he got it, but seems to be an homage to Goose, ya know?"

Hollywood shook his head a little. "A loud ass farm bird," he chuckled quietly.

"With double OOs in the middle," Maverick added quietly, shaking his a head a little. "Goose would have loved it, probably would have crowed like a maniac."

"With Wolfie howling alongside him," Hollywood added as the man in question walked up and slid an arm around Hollywood's waist, raising a brow at the group.

"I'll be howling?"

"Don't you always?"

Wolf shrugged. "Only when I'm excited or something really cool happens." He surveyed his husband and friends with concern. "You guys alright?"

"Matter of opinion," Slider muttered as he ran a hand down his face and looked down at Maverick with an apologetic and mournful expression. There were things he wanted to say, wanted to apologize further, but Maverick was meeting his gaze and Slider saw only forgiveness in those green eyes, and as Maverick reached for him Slider grabbed the shorter man by the back of the neck and yanked him close, hugging him tightly as Maverick patted his back, comforting Slider like the other man had for him.

"I know, Ron."

Slider pulled back and wiped at his eyes roughly and sniffling a little, smiling wanly at Wolfman when he offered Slider a tissue. "You trying to beat out Ice for 'most prepared,' Wolf?"

Wolf shrugged one shoulder and grinned. "I'll be the back-up until he's on his feet again, how about that?"

Slider wrapped an arm around Maverick's shoulders, glancing out the window. "You guys wanna go back to the waiting room?"

Maverick shook his head as he tapped out a text to some of their other friends: Chip, Sundown, and Mayberry - to update them on Ice's status - and the thought of sitting in that room just waiting only brought on another dose of anxiety. "Can we just walk around a little? I don't want to be too far from Ice and Sarah, but—"

"Sure, Mav," Hollywood assured him as they began a meandering walk, Hollywood's arm around Wolfman, and Slider's around Maverick, going nowhere in particular but too restless to sit and wait for further news.

Once in the room, Felicity quickly settled on the bed next to her sleeping father.

"Hi, Papa," she whispered close to his ear, using the pet name she usually reserved for when she wanted something from him, or was trying to get out of trouble. This time though, what she wanted was for him to just be okay.

His eyebrows furrowed and eyes opened to tiny slits. His face relaxed a touch when he realized it was his daughter, and she felt tears well up when the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled up at her.

"Don't try to talk, okay? Mom and I are here."

Ice turned his head slightly, smile widening under the oxygen mask as he gripped his wife's hand tightly.

"Thomas Kazansky, don't you dare scare me like this ever again, do you hear me?" Sarah whispered, unable to speak any louder due to the lump in her throat.

He squeezed her hand in response and gave her a little shrug. He let go of Felicity's hand just long enough to press his right hand over his heart as he gazed at her intensely. She got the message though.

I love you, Sarah my heart.

God he was such a sap sometimes, but she loved it, knowing he reserved it for her, for their family.

"I love you too, dearest," she murmured as she kissed his hand, and he grunted and reached for his daughter again.

Felicity cleared her throat and glanced at her mother, who easily read the look in her daughter's eyes and nodded slightly.

"Dad, um, I have something to tell you."

Ice's eyebrows raised slightly and he squeezed her hand.

"I…I'm pregnant, Dad. We just found out."

His eyes softened immediately, and Felicity unwittingly let out a sob of happiness when she saw the sheen of tears instantly come to his eyes and the biggest smile he could muster burst across his face, and at the loving look he gave her before glancing at his wife. He pulled Felicity's hand to his mouth and kissed it as she nodded.

"Yeah, only about ten weeks, but I didn't want to wait to tell you…I love you, Dad, and I know you guys are going to be the most amazing Nana and Papa."

He wiggled her hand a little, his smile stretching his face, and God, he was so frustrated that he couldn't speak, but he tugged her hand to pull his daughter close and she moved to hug him properly, tucking her face into the crook of his neck like she used to when she was little, and squeezed him as hard as she dared.

"I love you, Daddy," she murmured into his neck, and he stroked her hair in response, kissing her cheek.

Sarah had a hand on her daughter's back, wiping away tears with her other hand. She thought about hers and Tom's first meeting all those years ago, in Carole's house, and when they'd first began dating she wondered how much of the "real him" was Iceman and how much was Tom Kazansky, wondering if he'd be a doting father or if he'd be cold and detached.

But fairly soon into their relationship she'd seen his warmth, learned the special smile he reserved only for those closest to him, and witnessed his protectiveness and compassion, and knew she never wanted to let him go.

In that moment she realized the enormity of her relief that her husband was on the mend, and her tears increased unwittingly. Tom released their daughter and turned to his wife, still feeling so weak but needing to care for her. He groped out a hand and found hers, doing the same as he'd done to Felicity and pulling his wife close, and she wept into his shoulder.

"I'll give you two a few minutes alone," Felicity whispered. "I should probably go check on the boys anyway," she added with a wink as she headed back to the waiting room.

Tom rubbed Sarah's back, the back of her head, wishing he could soothe her with his words but his arms and steady heartbeat would have to do for now. She sat up after a few minutes, wiping at her eyes.

"I…I'm just so glad you're on the mend, sweetheart," she breathed, hiccuping a little. "I didn't allow myself to really believe it until we were back in here, and then I was focused on Felicity, and…oh." She smiled down at him warmly. "I love you, dearest."

He smiled up at her and tried to pull her down. She grinned and kissed him as hard as she dared, and he kissed back, passing all of his love and care through their lips, before he had to sag back against the pillows again, pawing at the oxygen mask a little before Sarah took it and put it on him again.

"Sleep, dearest husband. We'll see you when you wake up," she assured him.

Hours later, Sarah was indeed still at his bedside, but seated in the chair, head laid down on her arms on the bed, fast asleep. Tom could've sworn he'd heard humming though, who—

Ah. His wingman.

He turned his head to the right to find those bright green eyes looking at him, and though Maverick's full grin wasn't out in full force he did smile a little and lean forward, gripping Ice's forearm.

"There he is," Maverick chirped, a little too brightly, betraying his worry for his friend, but Ice smiled at him all the same.

Tom's left hand rested on his wife's head, fingers scratching gently at her scalp as she slept, and he squeezed Mav's forearm once before holding up his hand to mine a writing motion.

Maverick obeyed immediately and handed Ice the pen, then held the notepad steady for his friend.

What's the word, Mitchell?

Maverick snorted. "As they suspected, you have an infection that's really wiped you out, but you're already improving. And the chemo has been working too and the cancer is looking better than it had, and they're gonna keep you a few days."

Thank goodness. How are you holding up?

Mav shook his head. "Oh don't worry about me, Ice, I'll be alright, I'm just glad you're okay. You really, um…" he had to cough around the lump in his throat. "You really scared us, asshole."

Mav's smile became more genuine when he saw Ice shrug nonchalantly and then wink at him.

"Yeah yeah, you did it on purpose, I know, Tom."

Ice tapped the question with his pen and gave Maverick a knowing look. Stop avoiding the question, Maverick.

Maverick gave him a wry look in response, his eyebrows jumping a little as he shifted in his seat. Ice definitely wasn't going to let this go, he knew that much.

"Alright fine, you big worrier," Maverick huffed as Ice snorted. "I'm…I was pretty worried about you for a bit, but I'm just glad you're going to be okay."

Ice tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

Maverick huffed again. "You're going home, that's gotta count for something at least, right?"

Ice wiggled Mav's hand. Tell me all of it, wingman. Come on. You're holding something back.

Maverick cocked an eyebrow, able to read that expression as well. "You know me too well, you know that?" Ice only raised his eyebrows in response, patiently waiting for Maverick to spill the beans.

"Okay," Mav sighed, throwing his head back for a second before meeting those blue eyes again. "I…I tried calling Bradley on my way here in the cab, and he didn't pick up, and then Slider called him—" and here Tom lifted his head as much as he could, brows puckered. "And he…he won't come. We even told him he wouldn't have to see me, but, I…" he shook his head. "I still miss him, Ice. I miss him so much…"

Ice gave him a slight nod. I know, Mav.

"I ah…I've always held out hope of him coming back, you know? And I don't know how to let go of that…" he shook his head a little again, as if shaking off the thought, and sniffed. "Enough about me. You alright, Ice? You need anything?"

Ice just stared at him, his expression soft, wishing for the millionth time that he could fix this debacle. That's what he was - a fixer - and it was frustrating to not be able to make things right.

Well…maybe one day…

He held up his thumb and forefinger with in a circle for a moment - I'm OK - before resting that hand on Sarah's head once more. Maverick gave him a slight nod in acknowledgment and leaned forward.

"Say, you wanna hear about this Darkstar project they've started up at China Lake? If you're not too tired?"

Iceman knew a bit about it already but was eager to hear it from Maverick's perspective. And besides, the topic brought some of that familiar gleam back to Maverick's eyes, and that was well worth it, so he nodded in agreement, propped up against pillows as Maverick animatedly described the early drawings of the jet, the goals they had set, the timeline, the simulator they'd program, and was so so glad he'd pulled some strings to get Maverick assigned to the test pilot program.

Pulling strings and begging favors was all worth it for his wingman, and he allowed himself to be lulled to peaceful sleep by Maverick's voice.

His family was here.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

February 2014 - NAS North Island

Rooster inhaled a long, large breath of the familiar salty air. It had been quite a while since he'd been here in San Diego. It was somehow both odd and comforting to be back, as he had so many memories of this city, of this very naval base in fact.

He glanced upwards, sighing when he saw that Iceman's flag was flying high. He was here. A few floors and hallways away. Could he go see him? Surely a lieutenant couldn't simply walk upstairs and ask to speak to the COMPACFLT without an appointment, but…

Would Iceman even see him?

He'd wept with relief, alone in his bunk, when he'd found out that Ice had overcome his latest bout of cancer a few years prior. The worst thing had been finding out via an informational memo sent to the Fleet, instead of a personal email or text.

But what could he really expect at this point? He'd been invited to visit Ice in the hospital and he'd refused. He'd ignored every communication from Maverick for the last twelve years. Why would Mav try to reach out now?

He sighed when he saw the time and went back inside to the classroom, excited for his first day.

TOPGUN.

He'd come full circle, in spite of how bittersweet it was for him.

He outranked his father, had lived longer than him, and now…here he was. In the same building Goose would have walked through ….the place where his father had died. Where a tragedy happened that would permanently affect so many others for the rest of their lives.

Well…it wasn't technically the same building. It had been renovated since '86, but the principle was there. His life as he knew it had been mostly - if not entirely - formed by this place, by that accident, by the relationships that had formed because of it.

His emotions were still swirling inside him, although he (barely) managed to keep them from showing on his face as he settled in a chair in the third row back. He was early and there were only a few other aviators there.

He noticed the woman first, of course, attractive with dark hair, her hair neatly swept into a slick bun, eyes sharp and intelligent.

"Stand down, buddy, she'll eat you alive," a familiar voice muttered as a body flopped into the seat next to Rooster.

Rooster smiled and raised his eyebrows at his old shipmate. "Smokey, how the fuck did you get into TOPGUN?"

Smokey shrugged. "By being a badass, of course. How else?"

Rooster clapped him on the back. "Missed you, man. How's the Eisenhower?"

Lawrence "Smokey" Hartley shrugged again, this time with his palms up by his shoulders. "Same shit, different day, mostly. You?"

"Same."

He was about to ask Smokey more about their old squadron when Rooster's attention was stolen by the blond who had just strolled into the room, his body language oozing confidence and cockiness, and his innards curled at the smug look on that face - but, oh damn it, that face was as gorgeous as his ass, though…

His attention must have wandered because he startled at the hand thrust into his face. A hand attached to that infuriatingly gorgeous blond.

"You deaf, fella? I said the name's Hangman."

Rooster stared at him dumbly. "Hangman?"

"Yeah," Hangman replied slowly. "Jake Seresin, at your service. I'm the man that'll be leaving you all in the dust," he added with a wink.

"Ohh, umm, I'm…I'm…" he cleared his throat and took the hand, still too flustered to respond to the dust comment. "I'm Bradley Bradshaw. Rooster."

Hangman's nose wrinkled. "Bradley Bradshaw? Did your parents want you to be bullied?" He drawled with a derisive snort.

Bradley managed not to bristle visibly. After all, none of them knew he was an orphan or how much comments like that stung. There'd been times he'd hated his name, but it was one of the few things he still had that connected him with Goose and Carole.

He opted to simply give back a one-shouldered shrug in response, along with what he hoped was a confident smirk, trying to keep his cheeks from flaming when Jake grinned at him and winked, his eyes sparkling, and turned to greet another aviator he called "Coyote."

Christ, it was going to be a long eight weeks.