Chapter Text
The anniversary of Ice’s death snuck up on Maverick. He’d been so absorbed in working with his squad (his squad did have such a good ring to it) that the day in question had almost caught him off guard. To his surprise, however, when he awoke lying on the worn sofa in the hangar with a splitting headache, he didn’t feel sad. Of course, he wasn’t happy either, he isn’t a psychopath, but at the same time he felt a million times better than he had ever imagined he could. Maybe he had just drunk it all out the night before (Sorry Ice). Not only did he willingly haul himself off the sofa, but he made himself some breakfast, showered and dressed in decent clothes.
Maverick rode his motorcycle down to San Diego, navigating the busy morning rush before finally arriving at the cemetery, which was always delightfully quiet at this time. He hadn’t brought any flowers with him, on reflection perhaps he should have, but this was Ice he was here for, and he knew better than anyone that Maverick probably would have forgotten the flowers.
As he walked the familiar grass paths he stopped just shy of his grave at the sight that lay in front of him. Several bunches of flowers lay in front and as Maverick approached he could see a model F-14 and a model aircraft carrier laying in amongst them. He knew this wasn’t from Sarah, who was over in Florida all week but even despite this knowledge he couldn’t quite bring himself to work out exactly what had happened. He crouched down and gently moved the bunches to see the notes attached.
Pops, I’m sorry I never fixed everything when you were alive. You and Mav are the best thing that happened to me. He’s still causing trouble though, how you ever put up with that is beyond me- Gosling
Adm. Kazansky, I’m sure you’re laughing up there at all the pain your husband is putting us through, sir! - Fitch & Garcia
Thank you for your service, sir. And by the way, you’re definitely the better pilot - Hangman.
We’re looking after him now sir, your duty is done. Enjoy your rest, you deserve it. - Phoenix + Bob Trace-Floyd xx
Maverick sobbed at what he read, for once not caring about the fact he was in public. He sent a message to the Dagger group chat, simply saying ‘Thank you’ because the words for what they had done could not be found. But, he supposed, it seemed like he had the rest of his life to figure that one out.