Work Text:
Talk To Me, Mav
or
The Ghost He Couldn't Outfly
“Mav! No!”
Rooster looks back, just catching sight of the single-seater Super Hornet as it plummets in a burst of fire, smoke rushing upwards from the missile hit. The entire tail breaks apart upon impact, the rest of the jet free-falling towards the snow-covered ground below.
“Dagger One is hit!” Phoenix shouts over the radio. “I repeat, Dagger One is hit! Maverick is down!”
Rooster jerks his stick, evading a SAM riding his tail. His heart is pounding in his ears, sweat dripping down his forehead in his helmet. His chest is crushed around his heart - is it from the force of the Gs? Or something else?
His eyes sting like he’s flying into the wind without a visor or a glass canopy for protection. He can hardly focus on the world around him as his vision blurs.
“Dagger One status. Status!” Rooster’s voice grows frantic. He’s always been able to keep his calm in the air. Flying was his one escape from the grief that trailed him on the ground. Only behind the cockpit could he outrun the ghosts haunting him.
Flying with Maverick changed all that. For once, his ghosts didn’t just keep up with him - they outmatched him.
“Does anyone see him? Dagger One, come in!”
“I didn’t see a parachute!” Fanboy calls back.
“We have to circle back.” Rooster risks another glance back at the mountain range they’re fleeing; now they’re back over the canyon, thousands of feet higher than when they’d flown in. They’re out of coffin corner and immediate danger from SAMs.
“Comanche, bandits inbound,” a female voice says in his headset. “Single group hot. Recommend daggers flow south. One minute to intercept.”
“All daggers flow to ECP.”
Rooster pounds the side of his canopy with a fist. “What about Maverick? Did anyone see him? Did anyone see him?”
“Dagger Spare requests permission to launch and fly air cover!” For once, Hangman sounds completely serious. Almost desperate.
A pause from command. Then, “Negative, Spare.”
As if reading Rooster’s rebellious thoughts, a male officer’s voice says, “Dagger, you are not to engage. Repeat, do not engage.”
A sob of frustration escapes Rooster’s lips under his mask. He’d punch something again if he could, but he’s finding it hard to keep up with Daggers three and four as it is. Speed is his greatest weakness, especially whenever anything sets him on edge.
But he’s not on edge now. He’s far over the cliff.
We’ll talk later. Maverick’s voice sounds in his head. Not an hour ago, they were standing on the deck of the carrier, just feet away. Not even half an hour ago.
And how had Rooster responded? He’d just nodded. Maverick’s unwavering calm and confidence is infectious. Rooster had actually believed, despite all their failed simulations, despite knowing the odds of any of them making it back alive - let alone all of them - that they would.
The thought had never crossed his mind that Maverick wouldn’t make it. Rooster had prepared himself for the possibility of losing Phoenix and Bob or Payback and Fanboy. But Maverick? The old man seemed to live in open defiance of death itself, pushing the limits of the human body and spirit as well as the aircraft he flew. Maverick has faced threats no American pilot has since the last war and survived.
When everyone dies around him, Maverick remains - and he remains as fit, healthy, and cocky as always.
Despite Rooster’s harsh words following Phoenix and Bob’s close call last week, he did believe in Maverick. He believed in Maverick as steadfastly as his father did. Maybe even more so, because deep down, he knew Maverick wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Underneath his anger and bitterness, Rooster knows the burden of guilt and shame that Mav still carries from that fateful day. It was clear in everything he did that Maverick was working to pay off a debt he could never pay back in full, but he was going to try his damndest anyway. Rooster didn’t believe that this mission was possible when Mav flew the training course successfully; he believed it was possible when Maverick chose him as his wingman.
Rooster knows he wouldn’t have chosen him if he thought they were going to certain death.
He steadies his breath, gets a hold of his emotions. Maverick has to be out there. The old man hasn’t made it this long just to kick it now. And he certainly isn’t going to squirm his way out of his promised conversation with Rooster this easily.
“Dagger Two, return to carrier. Return to carrier, acknowledge.”
His heart pounds louder as his speed decreases. He begins to fall back from the others.
“Rooster, those bandits are closing,” Phoenix says, a hint of pleading in her voice. “We can’t go back.”
“Rooster.” Bob’s quiet voice comes out with a sigh. “He’s gone.”
Another blur in his vision.
“Maverick’s gone.”
Feel, don’t think. Maverick’s voice echoes in his mind again. Then, harsher: You’re not ready.
Rooster reaches forward and clicks off his radio. Then, before he can overthink it, he jerks his stick.
Even without hearing the voices from command and his fellow pilots in his helmet, Rooster can hear them in his mind. He knows that Phoenix is pleading for him to return to course. Payback is giving him a frantic warning. Hangman is demanding to take to the air as backup. Command is issuing stern orders.
One voice rises above them all. One that he can barely hold onto the memory of in real life.
His father’s voice.
“Talk to me, Dad,” he whispers, pushing forward with his stick and flying back over the tree-lined mountains as fast as he can. The kind of speed he can only control when he releases his mind.
It’s less than a minute before he flies over the spot where Maverick went down. Rooster drops his altitude, his eyes darting back and forth between the white ground below him and the terrain in front of him.
“Come on, come on,” he whispers. Then he sees the smoke rising above the trees and adjusts his course.
The wreckage of Mav’s jet lies in a flaming heap. The trees in a row behind it are leveled.
There’s no sign of a parachute. No sign of life beyond the starving, devouring fire.
Rooster flies over the area three times. As he turns to fly over it a fourth time, he knows it’s hopeless. The missile must have hit close enough to the cockpit to damage the punch-out mechanisms. That, or the impact of it caused Maverick’s head to crack against the back of his seat or the side of the plane, knocking him unconscious before he could punch out.
Tears blur Rooster’s eyes for a third time. He knows he needs to head back, but he can’t find it within him to just leave Maverick there.
“We still have to talk,” he says, his voice breaking. “You promised.”
His missile lock alarm blares, and he barely jerks his jet to the side to avoid the missile. It crashes into the side of the mountain ahead of him - too close.
He scrambles to pull up, his jet missing the rock by a margin much too close for comfort. Survival mode takes over and he twists around to spot the bandits. Two of them closing in on him. Three missiles: three attempts to shoot him down. He still has his two missiles, but no flares. They have superior fifth gen aircraft. He’s stuck in an F/A 18. It’s not even as fast as the F-14 Tomcats his father used to fly in, even if the maneuverability is much improved.
Part of him aches to turn his radio back on, but he’s not ready for the flood of curses, commands, and reprimands that he’s sure is sounding on the other end. And even if all they do is try to guide him home, he knows the information will kick his mind back into gear and he’ll start overthinking everything.
There’s only one person in the world who can guide him home now.
“Talk to me, Mav.”
He pushes his jet as fast as it can go. His body is already physically exhausted from the climb out of the canyon and emotionally drained from the intensity and chaos of coffin corner, but to give in means death. Maverick took that hit to save his life; if he dies now, it means Maverick died for nothing.
Rooster has spent his entire life coping with the fact that his father died for nothing. It destroyed his mother, probably accelerated her health issues that led to such an early death.
He can’t relegate Maverick to the same fate.
His missile lock alarms blare again. Rooster points the nose of his jet down, diving back into the canyon, far past the normal hard deck that has served to protect him throughout countless hours of training. He’s run the canyon route enough times - both in waking hours and in tense dreams - that the twists and turns are almost like an old friend.
The missile slams into the side of a mountain. One of the bandits clips an outcropping with its wing, the metal tearing and the jet spinning wildly. The pilot punches out but at this altitude, the parachute won’t save him.
The second bandit settles in for the long haul, following Rooster closely through the maze of rock.
To survive this, we’ll have to fly like Maverick. Hangman’s words come back to Rooster. I am! he wants to protest, but he knows it isn’t true. He’s giving up some control, but not all. Maverick isn’t just fast and talented, he’s reckless. Unpredictable. He should be dead a hundred times over from his antics, but he’s just so good that he can always pull it off.
Rooster thinks back to when he and Mav were stuck in that death spiral over the desert. Mav had been testing him. Pushing him beyond his limits. He knew Rooster always played it too safe. To survive this mission requires someone who isn’t afraid of dying.
After all, what does he have to lose? If he doesn’t risk anything, he’ll die anyway. His Super Hornet simply isn’t a match for the Su-57 on his tail.
It’s not the plane. It’s the pilot.
Exactly, Maverick had snapped. Then it was an insult. Now, in his head, the words are a reassurance.
Mav didn’t pick me to be his wingman because he knew he could protect me, Rooster realizes. He picked me because he knew I was a good pilot enough to save myself.
And hadn’t he proven that he could defy death? He’d outlasted Maverick in that deadly game of chicken. It was a stupid risk, but he’d held on. He’d shown Maverick that he did have steel in him.
“It’s all your fault, you know,” Rooster grumbles, climbing a couple hundred feet. Still deep in the canyon, but high enough to give him some space for the terrible idea that had popped into his mind. “If you hadn’t wanted me to be a pilot, you shouldn’t have acted like my dad. You were my real inspiration. I thought you were the coolest person in the world. I wanted to grow up just like you.”
As he had hoped, the Su-57 follows his trail, taking the bait and rising to his level. Rooster takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, his hands sweating under his gloves and his arms shaking.
“This one’s for you, Mav,” he whispers, then slams the brakes, cutting off his speed and allowing his jet to drop like a stone.
The Su-57 soars past him overhead, close enough that the jet wash threatens Rooster’s control. For a moment, he fears it’s unrecoverable. Then he rights his aircraft with feet to spare, then takes up the chase, knowing it’s a matter of seconds and not minutes before the enemy pilot figures out a way to counter him.
Rooster catches up and doesn’t bother waiting to line up missile lock. He smashes the trigger of his guns and empties half a magazine into the back of the plane.
The right engine goes out and the jet lists to the side. Though it’s probably overkill, Rooster can’t help the rage that rises up when he remembers the sight of Mav’s plane going down. He missile locks and blows the jet to smithereens before it has a chance to hit the canyon wall. The pilot didn’t have the altitude to punch out, anyway.
Exhaustion overcomes him. He flies out of the mouth of the canyon and over the dark blue sea. The carrier comes into sight within minutes. He overshoots it the first time, going much too fast, and has to circle around again. He turns on his radio just long enough to relay the appropriate landing information to the tower, then shuts it off again before the bridge officers can chew him out. He knows he’s in for the scolding of his lifetime - maybe even a court martial for defying direct orders - but he doesn’t care.
His heart just isn’t in it anymore. He lost it back in those snowy mountains, in the wreckage of Dagger One.
As soon as his wheels hit the deck and rolls to an abrupt stop, his grief smashes into him like that first bandit had hit the canyon wall. He doesn’t pop his canopy, instead using it as a shield as he wrenches off his helmet and ugly sobs overtake him.
I’ve never lost a wingman.
You’re lucky. You fly long enough and it’ll happen.
But Maverick wasn’t just his wingman. He was family.
The only family Rooster had left.
Easy for you to say. No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.
Rooster had lashed out like an angsty teen. His words couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was only able to say them because he truly thought that Maverick was invincible. No matter what happened to him in the skies, Maverick always survived. He’d crashed enough times that it hardly even phased him anymore. He saluted death with a middle finger.
But everyone dies eventually and Mav is no exception, regardless of how he acts.
One of the crew members pops the canopy open from the outside, probably thinking there’s a mechanical issue on his end. The cacophony of noise from the carrier rushes in, reality slapping him across the face. He turns his face away from the crew members surrounding the jet, not wanting them to see him like this.
“Rooster!” Phoenix’s voice reaches him from above the others. She climbs up the side, then pauses. “Bradley?”
His face still turned away, he does his best to wipe at it, pretending like he’s wicking away sweat and not tears. Truth is, he’s ashamed for the others to see him mourn Mav. Especially after the way he treated him throughout the entire training course in front of them all.
He’d yelled at him, shit-talked him to the others, and hurled daggers into his heart at every available moment. And when he finally had the maturity and courage to tell Maverick how he really felt, he let the moment slip away.
He didn’t choose to lose his first father. But he had purposefully pushed away his second one.
He has only himself to blame for the massive weight of guilt settling on his chest, slowly suffocating him and crushing his ribs into the space where his heart once was.
Phoenix knows him too well. She leans over the edge of the cockpit and wraps her arms around him. He takes a deep, steadying breath. At least she survived. She and Bob and Payback and Fanboy. They all made it.
“Come down,” she says after a minute, releasing him and offering a hand. He tosses his helmet down into the hands of a waiting crew member and shucks off his gloves, leaving them in the cockpit. He takes her hand and allows her to lead him down to the deck.
His knees buckle as his boots thud into the wooden decking and he pitches to the side, not having the strength or energy to catch himself. But someone else is there already, grabbing him and supporting his weight.
Rooster looks over to see Hangman, his usual smirk long gone and the sparkle in his blue eyes dulled.
“You did good,” he says, gripping his flight suit tightly, giving it a little shake.
“Not good enough.”
Payback and Fanboy push their way through the crowd. Payback slams into Rooster hard enough to knock him down if Hangman wasn’t still holding him up. Payback holds onto him tightly enough to make it hard for him to breathe.
“Don’t ever pull that shit again, you hear me?” Payback orders.
Rooster can only nod, fighting back at the tears prickling behind his eyes. The truth is, he would have gone back for any of them, command’s orders be damned. He doesn’t leave his brothers and sisters behind.
Rooster just saved your life, fellas. But it’s gonna cost him.
That should be us down there.
But it’s not. And now you know a little something about Rooster.
Fanboy squeezes his shoulder as they all walk together to the bridge to debrief. They all surround Rooster, as if protecting him. The general mood on deck is light; the crew members no doubt heard that the mission was a success. Sure, they lost one plane, but weren’t they expecting to lose them all? And hey, out of all the pilots up there, at least it was the old man who burned out and not one of the young ones who have a whole life ahead of them.
Maverick is a legend in the Navy. Doesn’t it follow that he should also go out guns blazing? Retiring and living to a ripe old age in some cottage by the sea would relegate him to a side note in the history books. Now he’s died a hero’s death. There’ll be framed photos of him at Top Gun, etched plaques, an elaborate memorial is some military graveyard that aspiring aviators will pay respects to for good luck.
His exploits now will never be forgotten. But those people won’t mourn him. They won’t know who he truly was. He’ll be nothing more than a patron saint to pilots, a mystical figure in Navy lore, a wellspring of rumors and outlandishly embellished stories.
To these people he was a god. Why would they mourn that?
The tone on the bridge is muted. At least some of these men and women actually knew Maverick, if only for a short time. They all bore witness to his final words and actions, at least. That’s enough to sober anyone up.
The six of them give their report. Rooster feels everyone’s eyes on him as he tells how Maverick cut behind him to lay down covering debris, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid one of the SAMs as he climbed back up. Though he keeps his tone level, he almost chokes when he realizes that the maneuver Mav pulled off was the exact one Rooster had during that training session.
Rooster just saved your life, fellas. But it’s gonna cost him.
It should have been me down there. In the valley, in a crashed jet. But now I know something about Maverick.
It was something he always knew about Maverick.
“You’re dismissed,” Vice Admiral Simpson says. “Lieutenant Bradshaw, a word.”
Here it comes. Rooster doesn’t feel anything, though. Being a pilot is all he has, but they could rip his wings off his uniform and toss them in the ocean and he wouldn’t care. He has no regrets about his actions. At least he knows he didn’t leave Mav to die alone or be captured. That’s the only thing that could make this any worse.
The others give him sympathetic looks as they file out. Payback and Hangman pat his shoulder as they pass by. Rooster doesn’t move, standing at attention in front of the Vice Admiral.
“You defied direct orders out there,” he says, looking down at a printout on his desk.
“Yes, sir.”
“You put not just yourself, but your multi-million dollar government bird at risk.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Vice Admiral sighs. For a long moment, silence reigns. “He was a helluva pilot, wasn’t he?”
Rooster presses his lips together. He doesn’t trust himself to speak.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Simpson shakes his head. “I’m gonna miss him. He was a massive pain in my ass - in everyone’s ass - but he did what needed to be done. And he did a damn good job of it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He really cared about you, you know.” Simpson catches his eye. “He didn’t want you here. I was worried it would impair his judgment. But the only thing better than his instincts for flying were his instincts for people. He knew who to surround himself with. Who to push. And sometimes he pushed much too hard for my liking - but he knew what he was doing. I have no doubt that if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have had any pilots return today. We may not have even succeeded with the mission.”
“No, sir.” Rooster senses his walls starting to break down, his composition crumbling. He’s not sure how long he can hold himself together.
“I should court-martial your ass.” The Vice Admiral shakes his head. “You can thank Captain Mitchell I’m not. I should have court-martialed his ass a dozen times, but he turned out to be useful enough to put up with. You’re a good pilot with a lot of potential.” He raises his eyes to meet Rooster’s. “Don’t follow in all his footsteps.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That was some phenomenal flying, by the way. Taking out two Su-57s in an F/A 18. I don’t know how you did it.”
Rooster swallows. “I flew like Maverick, sir.”
Simpson’s lip curls up in a sad smile. “You sure as hell did.” He waves his hand. “Go get some rest. We’ve got a long ride back. You’re dismissed.”
Rooster starts for the door, then pauses with his hand on it. He turns back to the Vice Admiral.
“Sir?”
Simpson looks up. “Yes?”
He hesitates, knowing that he should let this go. He’s lucky he got off; he shouldn’t push it. But the words spill out. “I did what I had to. I don’t regret it.”
“I know, kid.” Simpson rests his hands on his desk heavily, looking like he’s aged ten years in a second. “I know.”
-
Rooster finds an empty stop on deck, hidden from the bustle of the flight crews securing the aircraft and cleaning up from the landings, and sits under the last light of the sunrise. It reminds him of his pre-teen years, when he’d beg Maverick to take him for a ride on his motorcycle. His mother was always a little nervous, but ultimately she trusted Mav.
“Bring him back by dark,” she’d say, ruffling Mav’s dark hair. Then she’d lean down and kiss Bradley’s helmet, right above his forehead. “And you hold on tight.”
They rode all around in the warm heat of southern California. As with everything else in his life, Mav pushed the limits, driving them far out even as the sun set. Then, when it was low in the sky like it is now and there was no way they should have been able to make it home by dark, he’d come to a running stop, turn around, and shout over the engine, “I feel the need!”
“The need for speed!” Bradley would shout back. Then Mav would rev the engine before shooting off, flying across the highways at blazing speeds. They always rolled up to the house just in time. His mother would be waiting on the porch, her arms crossed but unable to help the smile on her face.
She’d swat Mav playfully as they climbed up the steps. “I said before dark, not at dark.”
Maverick would flash her his signature grin, and she’d roll her eyes as she shuffled them into the house for a late dinner.
“One of these days, you’re going to run into trouble you can’t smirk or talk your way out of.”
“Someday. But not today.” And then he’d launch into some story about some sort of shenanigans he pulled that should have ended with him court martialed or arrested or punched in the face but instead somehow weaseled out of.
“He always seemed invincible to me,” Rooster says aloud, wiping at his eyes. Phoenix approaches from where she’d been standing in the shadows and takes a seat beside him.
“He died doing what he loved. Is there anything more we can ask from life?”
“My father died doing what he loved. He had a lot more to ask for.”
Phoenix is silent. Rooster sighs and leans his head back, resting it against the railing behind him.
“I don’t regret it,” he tells her. “Going back to look for him.”
“What would you have done if you found him?”
“I don’t know. But I do know that I could never have lived with myself if I didn’t.”
She turns to look at him. “How did you forgive him? For what happened with your dad?”
“I never blamed him for it. I was too young to understand what happened at the time. All I remember is that Maverick was there at every step of the way. At the funeral. At every birthday or Christmas he could get leave for. And when he wasn’t there physically, he would call or send letters and gifts from wherever he was stationed. I knew he wasn’t my dad, but he was just as much a part of our family as my dad would have been. My mom loved him, too. She never said a bad word about him. By the time I learned the full story, it didn’t matter to me that he was the one flying that day.”
“You never talked about him before.” Her voice is quiet. “We’ve known each other for years, and you never mentioned him once.”
“I cut all ties with him after he pulled my papers. The only reason I could be so angry with him was because I trusted him. I loved him. It felt like a betrayal from the one person I had left in the world.”
If he was any less important to me, I would have forgiven him a long time ago.
That’s what Rooster had wanted to tell him on the flight deck before the mission. That and more, but he could have boiled it down to that one sentiment. He had enough time to say it, too, but Maverick’s confidence that they would return had stopped him.
“He tried to reach out.” The words keep spilling out. Rooster’s never told anyone this. He spent years shoving down his feelings, not wanting to find any sort of closure or forgiveness. He liked being angry at Maverick; it gave him something to work towards. He was never competing against his fellow pilots at Top Gun or in his other stations. He was only ever trying to outfly the one ghost he knew he could never fully shake. That’s why he became such a good pilot - he was always competing against the very best. And it was personal.
“He came to my Naval graduation. I pretended like I didn’t see him, but I think he knew because he kept his distance. He almost always could tell what I was thinking. Mom said it was because I was so much like my dad, and he knew my dad better than anyone. She even joked that he may as well have been married to him for all the time they spent together and all the inside jokes and signals they shared. She said sometimes hanging out with them was like hanging out with two people who spoke an entirely different language. That’s what made them such good partners up in the air. They knew what the other was thinking, how they’d react, what they wanted from each other. Maverick couldn’t fly at first after the accident. He almost washed out of Top Gun. Maybe even the Navy entirely. He only stepped up because he knew it’s what my dad would have wanted.”
Phoenix reaches out and rubs his back. Rooster keeps talking, years of things unsaid gushing out in a flow.
“I thought he was the coolest person in the world. Sometimes I’d even tell people he was my dad. I went through a phase in high school where I was kinda embarrassed to have him around - my mom, too. It wasn’t cool to be seen with your family in public, you know? He would come to my athletic games if he was in the area. I would barely acknowledge him, but he’d still come and cheer me on. And I always won whenever he was there. I wanted to make him proud - and it always improved my mood. He wasn’t able to come to many because of his deployments, but I always looked for him in the stands. Sometimes he’d surprise me by not saying anything about coming to town. Then he’d take me out for dinner afterwards, and we’d talk about everything and anything. Mostly I wanted to hear about his flying - where he’d gone, what he’d done, what kind of plane he flew. We’d bring back a box and dessert for Mom and she’d let me stay up late to hang out together. But we never talked about the Navy with her, unless he was telling a story about my dad. In hindsight I realize it was her way of trying to keep me away from the military.”
He wipes at his eyes again, and realizes for the first time that the others had gathered around - Bob and Coyote, Payback and Fanboy, even Hangman. And Rooster realizes then that he’s giving a eulogy - the kind of eulogy he could never do at Maverick’s actual funeral, in front of hundreds of strangers. Everyone here actually knew Maverick, even if only as their instructor. But he was always more than their instructor. He was their friend. Their mentor.
Their wingman.
“When my mom got sick, he came around more than usual. When the doctors gave her a month to live, he cashed in all his favors and managed to get four weeks’ leave. I could tell it killed him to be away from flying for so long, but we were worth it to him. He even managed to get another two-week extension after she died to arrange the funeral and help me get resettled. I was almost eighteen and in my senior year, so I moved in with a distant relative who lived nearby. Mav helped me go through the entire house and sort through things. He paid for the funeral. He managed the estate. Whenever I needed someone to talk to, he dropped everything to take my call, even if he was halfway across the world in an entirely different time zone. I don’t know how I would have gotten through that time without him.”
A small, sad smile stretches across his face as he remembers those days. When his mom had been bedridden in her final weeks, sleeping more times than not, he and Mav had spent a lot of time together - going out to eat in dingy diners, joining in 2v2 volleyball games on the beach (“your dad and I used to smoke everyone at Top Gun - no way we can’t take these bums”), even just going grocery shopping. They’d never been closer in the months before and after his mom’s death.
Then Mav had pulled his papers at the Academy, and Rooster cut him off cold until the day fate brought them back to Top Gun together.
“I never understood why he didn’t settle down. Why he didn’t accept a promotion and find one of his old flames to start a family with. I even - I even used that against him once. Said it was easy for him because he didn’t have any attachments. No one to mourn him if he burned in.” Rooster shakes his head. “I was so blind. He didn’t have time for a family because he already had one. And no matter how mad I was at him, I would mourn him. He was a good man. A good friend.” His voice cracks. “A good father.”
If only I was a better son.
If only he knew what he meant to me. Even after all these years.
His mother’s voice sounds in his mind, slightly chiding. Of course he knew. You didn’t have to tell him. He always knew. He could read you better than anyone else.
Rooster wraps his arms around his legs, pulling them to his chest. He feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his heart. If only he’d known the power speaking those thoughts would have. The healing it would bring him.
There’s not a dry eye among the pilots when he finishes. Even Hangman, though he does his best to hide it, is affected. They may not have known Maverick the way Rooster had, but none of them can deny that he’s the only reason any of them are still alive.
He’s the only person who could have trained and inspired them to succeed.
“Damn, Rooster, that’s a lot of nice things you have to say,” Hangman says, a weak attempt at humor. “All I remember is cussing him out with every one of my two hundred push-ups.”
The others laugh. Rooster’s smile widens as they begin to share their own stories - maneuvers he’d pulled on them in the air during training, funny exchanges they’d had in the halls or at the bar, great throws and catches he’d made during two-way football on the beach. Everyone has at least one.
Rooster leans into Phoenix’s side as he listens and laughs along, realizing - and not too late this time - that he does have more family.
He isn’t alone in this world.
-
The funeral is a formal, solemn affair, much like Admiral Kaczanski’s. Rooster finds it strange to have attended so many military funerals at such a young age. And two in one month - his father’s former wingman and copilot, to boot.
Even stranger is to be standing right next to the casket as they fold the flag and press it into his arms.
He’d offered the honor to Penny, but she’d declined. She’s here, of course, but apparently Mav had told her all about his feelings and struggles with Rooster because she insisted that Mav would want him to have it.
After the funeral, Penny opens up the bar just for their small group - her and Amelia, Mav’s class of pilots, even the Admiral and Vice Admiral. Mav’s team from the Darkstar is also there.
It starts out with a muted toast. Penny frowns the entire time. Finally she shakes her head and rings the bell, catching everyone’s attention.
“Pete would have absolutely hated this,” she says. There are a few scattered laughs. Rooster finishes his drink and moves over to the piano. The other pilots follow him, the older folks staying at the bar. Rooster sets his fingers on the keys and starts playing through the list of songs his mom had always played for him as a kid. She’d never gotten rid of his father’s old records, and he grew up listening to the same bands his dad and Mav loved so much.
The sound of music and singing fills the air. When Rooster tires of playing and singing, Penny mans the jukebox. More stories are told - this time the higher-ranking officers jump in, sharing stories even Mav hadn’t. Rooster finds himself doubled over in laughter. Even Penny tells about some of the crazy things he pulled to impress her. By the look on the vice admiral’s face, even he didn’t know about some of those.
They stay until sunrise the next morning, individuals slowly saying goodbye and heading off throughout the night. Finally only Rooster, Phoenix, and Penny are left.
Rooster twirls Mav’s key ring in his hand, reluctant to go. He has to clean out the hangar - Mav’s home when he’s not on deployment.
“You want me to come with?” Phoenix offers. He shakes his head.
“Thanks, but this is something I have to do myself.”
She gives him a hug goodbye, then leaves. It’s just Rooster and Penny now.
“He really did love you like a son, you know,” she says.
“I do.” He clenches his hand around the keys, his fist squeezing hard enough for the metal to dig into his skin. “I missed him, too, all those years. There were so many times I wanted to call him. So many things I wanted to share with him. I let my anger keep me from reaching out.”
“You got your stubbornness from him.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a short laugh. “I always intended to forgive him one day. But I took him for granted.”
“He wouldn’t have changed anything. He loved his life, the ups and downs and all.” She reaches behind the counter and retrieves something, setting it on the counter. Rooster picks it up slowly, reverently -
Mav’s jacket.
“He was so proud of you.” Penny smiles fondly. “Don’t waste the life he’s given you.”
Rooster slowly pulls the jacket on, tugging it in front and looking down. It fits him perfectly. He waves goodbye to Penny as he steps out of the bar and heads to the motorcycle awaiting him in the parking lot. Mav had left everything he owned to Rooster in his will.
And according to his lawyer, he hadn’t changed his will in decades. Not even before the mission.
Rooster slides his shades on, then mounts the bike. It hums beneath him, purring like a wild, untamed animal. He’d ridden this cycle a dozen times with Mav, always looking forward to the day when he’d have a chance to drive it himself.
Now it’s his. His to take care of. His to preserve.
He shoots off along the empty highway, the sun just starting to rise ahead of him, the ocean by the road beside him. He picks up speed in a way he never would have before. Speed was always Maverick’s thing, not his.
Well, there’s still time to change that.
“Talk to me, Mav,” Rooster says, the winds stealing the words as he zooms away.
Maverick spent his entire life trying to preserve Goose’s memory, even when Rooster was kicking and screaming and fighting him every chance he got. But no matter the cost, he still gave it his best.
Now it’s time for him to carry on Mav’s legacy.