Work Text:
Losing Goose breaks them all. Not in ways you'd notice, nothing obvious - God fucking forbid they talk about it in anything but hushed whispers, silent glances traded for heartbeats of time behind Jester's back, as though they're all afraid to look in one another's eyes. There's a shocked quiet in class the next day, on the comms during the morning hop, in the locker rooms after, where they're one team down. Maverick is grounded till the board of inquiry makes its ruling; they don't hear that from him, but from Iceman, who got it from Viper, got charged with telling them, and looks none too happy to say it. None too happy to take the hop with no challengers, either.
Sundown can't say he feels for him, except he kind of does. They're all running scared, and too scared to say so. Scared isn't something you can afford to be around these parts; he's heard talk about Cougar, and it's not been kind. With Goose gone, with Maverick out of the air, no one's going to get up there and pull stunts, take risks, to make Iceman feel better about winning.
Jester calls them out on it. Use what you learned, and stop flying safe. Maverick, for his part, in class after the hop, makes his contribution to the deafening silence. Doesn't greet anyone as they enter, doesn't even take off his aviators to acknowledge their existence. Even when Ms Blackwood rips his flying from two long days ago apart, clearly trying to rile him, he doesn't say a word.
None of them can meet anyone else's eyes. None of them, Sundown thinks, can even turn to look. Mitchell's in the very last row, when he's usually up front; no one's seen him since that last takeoff, the morning before. There've been whispers that he held on to Goose's body till they dragged him away, that he wouldn't let go until he finally passed out. There've been whispers that he was only released from base hospital last night because Viper signed him out AMA. They all want to ask, so badly it hovers in the air, a tension so unlike the usual live-wire adrenaline hum that every one of them sits frozen to his seat.
None of them speaks of the elephant in the room: the spectre of doubt that the flat spin could have been Maverick's fault.
Sundown counts the voices he hears, that lesson: Jester, Ms Blackwood, two. Iceman talks, calm. Three. Slider laughs, sudden and jarring, almost nervous. Four. It's nothing like usual, where they almost all have something to say, where Goose is cracking jokes and Maverick's pulling some bullshit right along with him. They don't all like one another, this batch - it's what Viper wants, but Sundown's served on enough bases, and shit, he has enough siblings, to know it's not possible - but they had each other's backs, before. Now, he's not so sure.
-
Viper gives a pep talk, of some kind. He thinks that Viper thinks it's meant to help. You never forget the first man you lose. I want you to remember this, boys: there will be more. This isn't war, but I promise you you'll all see war.
The speech echoes dully in Sundown's ears. Maverick's ended up beside him, pale and exhausted, and when Sundown dares to take a glance at him, he looks as though every word is striking him in the heart.
There's some scattered, half-hearted banter later that evening, as they all spar. Wolfman cheers Hollywood on against Chipper: a single voice. Mouse joins in: two. Sundown can't quite bring himself to be the third in a chorus that would usually consist of every one of them yelling till they're hoarse.
Maverick knocks Slider flat with a vicious left hook to the jaw, stands shaking for a moment, then swallows, turns and leaves.
Iceman helps Slider up, grim, not a trace of laughter even in his eyes. Looks at the door, after Maverick, but then doesn't follow him. As Sundown takes the floor to kick Merlin's ass, Iceman sits on the sidelines instead.
This isn't war, boys, Viper said. Not yet. Not yet.
-
The board of inquiry acquits Maverick. Iceman, again, delivers the news. If Sundown had hoped the board's decision would take some of the weight off all their shoulders, after Goose's funeral, after they all shook hands with his grieving widow one by one as tears fell down her face, he was wrong. Knowing Maverick wasn't at fault for what happened lands like a rock, even though they all know it shouldn't, that he's one of theirs and will stay that way.
Sundown wonders if anyone else is thinking about why. Why there's that leaden weight to Iceman's voice, that ache in his eyes as he tells them Mav will be going up on the morning hop tomorrow. Because Mav's innocent, because he did everything right, because it was the machine, not the man - it could just as easily have been any other pilot, any other RIO. It could just as easily have been one of them.
-
Mav's at the O Club that night, drinking ice water alone. He nods at the batch as they walk in, but doesn't move to join them, sitting quietly a few feet away as they all take the edge off with as much beer as they can handle.
Eventually, Sundown breaks away from the rest, and Mav lets him buy him a drink.
"Man," Sundown says, with all the deep, kind openness of being very, very drunk. "Are you okay?"
Mav tries to laugh, but doesn't quite make it. It sounds a little like he's choking, instead.
"Speak for yourself, Williams," he says, his voice low.
Sundown is speaking for himself. It's exactly what he's doing, what he's been trying to do for the past however long. "But the inquiry said it wasn't your fault, Mitchell. The admiral said - "
"Fuck what the admiral said."
Sundown acts against his better judgement, places a heavy hand on Mav's shoulder. Mav doesn't flinch, but he takes a long pull from his beer and sets his jaw, blinks a few times into the distance; there are tears in his eyes.
"Hey," Sundown tells him. "You know you're going up tomorrow."
Mav nods, keeps his stare fixed away from Sundown, his shoulder tense underneath his hand.
"You're gonna do it, right? You gotta commit, man, c'mon - we've missed you up there. You gotta commit, stay up there. Not like Cougar, ya know?"
That's what gets Mav to look at him. Sundown meets his eyes, dares to hold his gaze for a second or two, to see how much pain he's carrying. Mav turns back to the counter in a moment, swallowing, but doesn't return to staring into thin air, addressing him instead.
"There's nothing wrong with what Cougar did," he says. "You gotta know, right? You gotta know when you're out."
"You're not out, Mitchell. Shit, you're still Iceman's only competition - you ain't out, man."
"I saved him, you know." He's quiet again, almost inaudible over the background noise of the club. "Cougar. I brought him home. At least I brought somebody home."
"Buddy," Sundown says, "you did your best to bring Goose home, too."
-
The next morning, Sundown volunteers to go up with him.
Hollywood tells him he's falling on a bullet. Sundown tells Hollywood to stop mixing metaphors.
-
Sundown watches Mav come apart. Then, he does him the favour of not watching him crash and burn, when everyone else can't seem to look away. He listens to Iceman try to help: one voice, in the silence. And he hears Mav leave.
When he comes back on graduation day, it doesn't feel like a return. He doesn't seem to see anyone, just shakes Ice's hand and takes his place among them all for a photo or two. They're all sent on assignment before Sundown has a chance to talk to him.
-
He hears a few things, afterwards. Hushed whispers, as he takes up his new assignment, as more and more cheerful voices start to ease the silence. He hears how so damn much went wrong but their batch made a name for themselves getting it right, how Ice and Slider, Mav and Merlin helped the Enterprise bring the Layton home.
The next time he sees Mav, it's nearly a whole year later, in the O Club at NAS Lemoore. Sundown's visiting from the Carl Vinson, Mav from Miramar, and there are too many voices surrounding them to count - no echoing quiet, no aching tension, no rough edge of tears. Holdin' up, Mav says when he asks, Carole and Bradley are holdin' up too, and Sundown figures that's the best that anyone can hope for.
"Next round's on me," Mav says awkwardly to that, and then, "I never said I was sorry. For...all of that. And then just leaving."
"Hey, you were going through some shit."
"Yeah, well, we all were. Wasn't just me."
Sundown nudges him in the shoulder, hopes it's taken as forgiveness for that day on the tarmac. "I told you you weren't out, Mitchell, and I was right, wasn't I? Look at you, TOPGUN instructor and all."
Mav gives him a smile. "Figured I'd pay something forward, y'know? You ever wanna come teach back there, just drop me a line, I'll pull some strings for you."
"Thanks, buddy," Sundown says. "You've got my back. I'll drink to that."
"Drink to our batch, then," Mav offers, raises his glass, and Sundown mirrors him. "To all of us and Goose."
Sundown meets his eyes, and nods. "To all of us, and Goose."