Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Maverick really was not sure about his new job.

The transition between him and Ice as the COMPACFLT had all been handled logistically, but it was taking some time to get settled in his new position. When Ice had taken on the role a few years ago, Pete had made a joke about friends in high places, but now, in doing the job, he had much more sympathy for his fiance. High places meant far more responsibility and the number of decisions he had to make on a daily basis...was overwhelming. He never thought flying an experimental aircraft would be easier than this job, but the Navy was doing its best to prove him wrong.

His fiance, on the other hand, did not extend the same sympathy to him.

“I swear, this job is more likely to give me brain damage than all the years of being a combat pilot ever did,” Pete complained, collapsing facedown onto the sofa in their living room after getting home from an exhausting day at work.

“Have a good day, did you?” Ice chuckled, not even sparing his fiance a glance of sympathy from the armchair he had been settled in when Pete arrived back home with a book in hand.

“Not even the slightest. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” Pete groaned, turning on his side so that he could breathe.

“Yes you do, you just aren’t used to it yet.” Ice said disinterestedly, casually turning the page.

“More like they aren’t used to me, they being all of the people now lower in rank than me making sure they had their opinions heard about my promotion this week.”

Ice glanced up. “How many meetings did you have today?” He asked, finally noting the exhaustion on Maverick’s face.

“Somewhere between fifty and two hundred?” Maverick estimated. “I know I was having more than one at a time at several different points today.”

Ice whistled, but returned to his book. “Ah. After years of you being their problem, they decided to make themselves yours.”

Pete glared at his fiance, before letting out an intense noise of frustration as his phone began ringing. He was starting to think he should change his ringtone every day because he was already tired of the noise, and he wasn't allowed to ignore the phone. “If that’s my aide calling me, I just got home, I swear to god…”

Answering the call, Pete put the phone up beside his head while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mitchell?”

“Hey, uh, Mav? It’s Bob.”

Pete blinked and sat up. That was not who he expected to be calling. “Bob? Hey, you alright?”

Ice looked up at Pee's abrupt change in tone and body language, frowning as his fiance waited for an answer.

A slight sniffle echoed through the phone, answering his question. 

No, Bob was not alright.

“I…uh…I need some help, and I don’t…I don’t know who else to turn to.”

Something was definitely wrong. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Um…my dad died, and I can’t get ahold of my sister,” Bob said.

Pete’s heart sunk. Whatever bad day Pete had had, Bob's had been much worse.

Less than an hour later, Pete found himself on the Miramar Air Base, where he found Bob sitting alone on the floor underneath his squadron plaque, forearms resting on his knees with his head hung down staring at the floor. His phone lay abandoned next to the young WSO’s right, silent and dark against the white linoleum floor.

“Bob?” Pete called out to him, heart breaking a little at the sight of the WSO. Bob looked up, his face red and puffy, and glasses askew.

He looked devastated.

“Mav, I…I’m sorry to bother you about all this, but I…” Bob slowly got up, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Don't worry about it. I am so sorry about your dad.” Maverick assured him, pulling the WSO into a hug, who gratefully accepted the embrace.

“Thanks. He uh…he…it was unexpected. I…I’m on leave for a little while so I can sort out the funeral, but I can’t get in touch with my sister. I need to tell her.”

“I was able to get in contact with her commanding officer on the USS Truman. She’s currently on a routine patrol, they have orders to get her in contact with you as soon as she lands.” Pete assured him, which allowed Bob to relax somewhat.

“Oh…okay. Yeah, that makes sense. I guess, for a minute there, I was worried…”

“That you hadn’t just lost him, but her as well?” Pete finished the sentence, and Bob nodded.

“It’s stupid, right?” Bob laughed wetly, and Pete shook his head.

Pete had felt the same way when his dad died. “Not at all.”

The two pilots fell into a heavy silence before Pete glanced up at the squadron plaque, already replaced to indicate the recent decommissioning of VF-51.

“Did I ever tell you that you were in the same squadron as my dad?” Pete asked. Bob shook his head, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

“No. I did know it was Neil Armstrong’s squadron though.” Bob answered, looking up at the plaque. "That was what someone told me when I got my assignment. A friend of my dad's, actually. He's a big fan of space."

“It seems a shame that it’s being disestablished, I guess I can't help but feel a little guilty that we're losing a squadron with such a big history during my tenure, but we have to change with the times,” Pete mentioned, glancing at Bob through his peripheral vision, and Bob shrugged.

“Sure. I mean, they trained us all on the F-18s, but the unit’s not being transitioned to them permanently. We’re supposed to get our reassignments in a few days, I think.”

“You’re not going far,” Pete said, which got Bob to glance at him in surprise.

“You know where I’m going, Mav?”

Bob winced, feeling like he'd just asked a stupid question. Mav knew everything these days.

“Trace’s request to have you transferred as her permanent WSO was sitting on my desk on my first day as COMPACFLT. Since your unit was being dissolved, I decided to approve it.”

Bob looked at Pete in shock, before a slow grin grew on his face.

“Really? I’m getting back in a cockpit with Phoenix?”

“If you’re okay with that?” Maverick confirmed, which got an enthusiastic nod from Bob.

“Yeah. Glad to know she wants me as her back seater.”

“We pilots tend to be very picky about who we want behind us. I can speak from experience there.” Maverick assured him, before glancing down at the pocket where Bob had stuffed his phone.

“Bob, do you have any other family to help you out with all this?” He asked, taking on a gentle tone. Bob slumped and shook his head.

“No. My dad…his condition was hard for a lot of people to deal with. What family he had, besides me and my sister, he drove away because they didn't understand, and his friends could only take much. We lost contact with pretty much everyone, except for one person, Steve Hiller, retired Marine Corps pilot. He was the one who told me."

Hiller. Marine Corps pilot. Why did that name ring a…bell?

Realization struck.

“Steven Hiller, callsign Loser?”

Bob grinned. “That’s the one. You know him?”

“I know of him,” Maverick snorted. “It’s hard to forget that callsign. He and Ice had to attend a mixed military gala back in the day, I remember him calling me that night to poke fun at it because that was how everyone introduced him. They didn’t even use his name.”

Bob laughed. “Neither did my dad. It wasn’t until I was about seven or eight that I heard someone use his legal name for the first time and got confused as to why they were calling him that.”

“So how did your dad meet Hiller?” Maverick asked. “Wasn’t he Air Force?”

“Yeah. I…actually don’t know. I’m not sure they ever told me that story.” Bob said, eyes distant, frowning slightly.

The two of them stood in silence for a second, before they both jumped as Bob’s phone started to ring, and he took it out, shoulders slumping as he recognized his sister’s caller id.

"Finally," He whispered, leaning against the wall. “Hey, Pattie.”

Pete could slightly overhear the conversation on Patricia “Prism” Floyd’s end as she asked him what was up, and Bob took a big gulp of air as he prepared to deliver the bad news.

Pete placed a comforting hand on the WSO’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring look, which seemed to help.

“Pattie, I…uh, I’ve got some bad news. I’m really sorry, but Steve called me earlier, and it’s dad. He…he died this morning.” Bob said, his voice catching.

Pattie on the other end said nothing as she processed what Bob had just told her. Taking her silence as a cue to keep talking, Bob began to explain the context. 

“He…he went of his meds again, Pat. Steve was checking in on him, daily, and found a message on the answerphone, from the pharmacy saying they couldn’t keep holding his medication, and it had to be picked up. So he offered to go pick up the meds for Dad. But when he came back, Dad had left the house, tried to make a run for it, screaming about how he was not going to be drugged again, and you know how he has...had a heart condition? It…he had a medical complication out on the sidewalk and fell over. Hit his head. The neighbor found him, and Steve got there just in time to see the ambulance. They could only do so much, Pat, and he crashed on the way to the hospital.”

Tears began forming in Pete’s eyes as Bob recounted the devastating story. He’d never met Bob’s father, but he had read the man’s file and knew about the complicated health conditions that they’d been dealing with over the years. It was a lot for anyone to deal with, but Bob and Patricia had been dealing with this since they were preteens, and Pete couldn’t help feeling sympathetic.

“Dad…they couldn’t revive him, and they called it as soon as they arrived at the hospital. Steve called me after that. And I…I said I would call you. I’m so sorry, Pat.”

Bob was physically trembling and slowly began sinking back against the wall into the position Pete had found him in on the floor. Making a decision, Pete walked away slightly, letting the two siblings talk privately, while Maverick made a call.

“Captain Duff?”

“Captain, this is Admiral Pete Mitchell, Commander of the Pacific Fleet. I realize you’re not in my jurisdiction, but I need to ask a favor.”

On the other end, the Captain of the USS Truman raised an eyebrow. He'd never met the new COMPACFLT but had heard many tales of the man's unconventional behavior. 

“Sir. What can I do for you?”

“You have a pilot currently on board, a Lieutenant Patricia Floyd? I need to arrange an emergency transport for her off the ship to stateside, preferably to Naval Station Oceana, immediately. There’s been an unexpected death in her family, and she’s needed to help make final arrangements. Her brother, who’s stationed at Miramar, is currently informing her of the death, and I’d like to make sure the two of them are squared away."

“Copy that, sir, I’ll get her on a plane tonight, she’ll be in Virginia by morning.

“Thank you, Captain. I know this request is a bit unorthodox,” Pete said, glancing back at Bob. “But she’s family.”

Duff smiled, appreciating Mitchell's candor. He liked seeing the humanity in the brass, and Pete Mitchell was definitely more human than some of his predecessors.

“Yes sir. I’ll see to it myself. Please give my condolences to the family.”

“Will do.” Pete nodded, hanging up the phone, just in time to see Bob also end the call.

“How is she?” Maverick asked, checking in on the younger man.

“She…she’s in shock, I think. Um, she says she’ll get home as fast as she can.” Bob said, eyes glazed.

“I’ve already spoken to the Captain of the carrier she’s assigned to, she’ll be on a plane to Virginia tonight,” Pete said.

Bob took in a sharp breath and gave Pete a relieved look. “I…I should be there to meet her.” He said, and Pete nodded in agreement.

“You’ll find my plane in the hanger, I'll have a flight plan arranged for you by the time you're packed and done with pre-flight checks. After that, we’ll work it out from there,” Pete whispered, and Bob practically jumped to hug him, tears slipping down his face.

“Thanks, Mav. I don’t know where I’d be without you right now.”

“No thanks needed,” Mav said gently, squeezing Bob tightly. “You just let me know if there’s anything I can do, and I’ll get it done, okay?”

Bob nodded, before biting his lip. “Do…do you think you could come to the funeral?”

“Do you want me there?” Maverick asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” Bob said hesitantly. “My dad didn’t have a lot of friends…I guess I just don’t want the last time I say goodbye to him to be a lonely affair?”

Maverick smiled and nodded, an idea spawning in his head, and he gently pushed Bob to go so that he could pack and fly to Virginia. And as soon as Bob was out of Pete’s sight, he made another call.

Captain Thomas J. Floyd was buried five days after he died in his hometown of Hornell, New York, and it sufficed to say that the graveside was not lonely. The man received full military honors, and pilots from the Marines, Air Force, and the Navy were present to witness his burial and provide support two his two children.

Bob couldn’t believe his eyes when the entire special detachment crew showed up with Ice and Maverick, and while he avoided crying at the ceremony, he couldn’t help the tears as each one of them pulled him and his sister into a hug following the service. Nor could he help the proud smile when Natasha especially introduced herself to Patricia, and everyone else, as Bob’s official copilot.

Maverick and Ice both watched the kids as they supported the two grieving aviators when someone came up behind them.

“So you must be Maverick?” Pete turned and noticed the man, dressed up in a well-decorated uniform, and it didn’t take long for him to realize who this was.

“Yes sir. And you must be Loser.” Maverick said, offering his hand out to Steven Hiller.

“That I am. Thank you for coming today, it meant a lot to Robbie.” Hiller smiled, glancing over at the mentioned WSO.

“It was the least I could do,” Mav assured. But Hiller shook his head.

“No, it wasn’t. The least you could have done was offer your condolences without a second thought. You did so much more, and he told me as much. I’m very grateful for that. There wasn’t much I could do for him, once he and Pattie picked the Navy,” Pete picked up on the slight good-natured grimace. The inter-branch rivalry was a hard thing to let go of.

“…but you did right by him. Thank you. And also, I wouldn’t admit this to him, but I was curious to meet you.”

Maverick grinned. “I could say the same thing. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years, some of it almost impossible to believe.”

“And that applies to you as well, man.” Hiller returned the expression, a huge smile adorning his face. “I gotta ask, there was a rumor going around a while back…is it true you hit Mach 10?”

Maverick smirked. “I can neither confirm nor deny I flew an aircraft at a speed of Mach 10 point 2.” Ice elbowed him, giving Pete a half-hearted glare, but Hiller just laughed.

“That’s cool. I’ve got to get my hands on one of those someday.”

“Says the man who’s supposedly been to space.” Maverick teased.

“Yeah…I’ve had some of what I’d call close encounters for sure. Y’know, it might not be a bad idea to compare careers, between the two of us, we could tell those kids some stories!”

“And get in all kinds of trouble.” Ice looked between Pete and Hiller with a concerned look, before Bob came up to the three members with a mischievous look on his face.

“Y’know, I believe you promised my dad something a while back, Steve.” He mentioned, and Hiller rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. I promised your old man some fireworks. Alright, Bobby, let’s go light some shit on fire.” Hiller draped his arm over Bob’s shoulder, and escorted the WSO away, with all of the younger aviators following closely behind.

Pete just chuckled, watching the two go, before he caught Ice giving him a soft expression. “What?”

“He is right, you know. You went above and beyond for that kid.” Ice said, still smiling.”

Pete just shrugged. “Of course. He’s family.”

Chapter Text

It was 2 am when Pete’s phone rang with Penny Benjamin’s caller id.

It took a minute for him to process that, not just because he was tired, but because he wasn’t even aware she had his number. Nonetheless, he answered the phone, sitting up in bed and turning on the light, knowing that he likely wouldn’t disturb Ice, who could sleep through a hurricane.

“Penny? What’s up?” Pete asked, rubbing the sand out of his eyes.

“Pete, hey. Uh, I’m sorry to be calling at this hour, but I’m closing up the bar for the night, and one of those kids from that detachment you were running a while back is here. He’s drunk, and he’s alone, and something feels wrong. He says someone will come to pick him up, but it’s been an hour, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

Pete stiffened, finally waking up. “Yeah, I’ll come get him. Sorry, Penny, I’ll be there ASAP. And if anyone does come before I get there, make sure to find out his name before he goes, so I can follow up, would you?”

“Sure. Thanks, Pete, see you in a minute.”

Pete climbed out of bed, and quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and a white t-shirt, before grabbing a thick jacket. He turned on the flashlight on his phone, and then turned off the bedside light, before checking on his husband who was still fast asleep.

Climbing in his Jeep, Pete floored it in the direction of the Hard Deck, thoughts and scenarios racing through his mind. Part of him was sure it wasn’t Rooster or Hangman, because Pete knows they both would have had the sense to call him, but still, he worried. Pulling up outside the bar, Pete climbed out of the vehicle to see Penny standing outside, arms crossed.

“Javy Machado.” She said before he could say anything, which took Pete aback.

Coyote?

“Okay, is he still here?” She nodded, and cocked her head, directing Pete out to one of the chairs on the deck, where sure enough, the form of one Javy Machado was slumped, with his head between his knees. Wearing a uniform.

Pete’s eyes narrowed.

“You said he’s drunk?” The question was directed at Penny, but he never took his gaze off Javy.

“Yeah. The table where he started out was covered in beer glasses. He must’ve been here with someone, he wouldn’t be conscious, let alone standing if they were all is.”

“How did he get here?” Pete asked, looking around the parking lot.

“I don’t know. He has no keys, no sign of a vehicle that belongs to him, but when closing time came around, he was sat by himself in the corner.”

She bit her lip, wincing. “If he was here with someone, he got left behind.”

“Okay, I’ll take him from here. Thanks, Penny.”

She nodded, before heading back inside. Pete slowly walked over to Javy, trying not to startle him.

“Coyote?” He asked gently, prompting the younger man to look up, eyes widening as he lurched out of his seat to attention. Or, at least an attempt of the attention stance, before nearly stumbling over.

Definitely drunk.

“Jesus,” Maverick stepped forward, scooping his arms under Javy’s, stabilizing him. “Javy, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Admiral, sir. Sorry, sir!” Javy slurred, getting his feet under him.

“I’m off-duty right now, kid, and so are you. None of that sir crap. What’s going on?”

Javy blinked, trying to focus. “Sir, I was just waiting for…” Javy looked around, eyes directed towards the parking lot. “I was just waiting for my ride back to Lemoore sir.”

“It’s two in the morning, Javy, and a four-hour drive to Lemoore, at least. They should have been here by now if they were coming.” Pete raised an eyebrow.

Something flickered in Javy’s eyes; a flash of insecurity, a touch of disappointment, and a hint of fear. Anger surged within Maverick, and he asked the question that had been on his mind since Penny called him.

“Javy, did someone leave you here?”

That broke the floodgates, and Javy’s eyes started shining with unshed tears. Pete knew part of the emotional display was because the younger man was drunk, but it was also clear how hurt Javy probably was by this whole situation to show it. He hadn’t even been this upset after the G-lock incident, and that had nearly killed him. “I…possibly, sir.”

“Javy.” Pete took a breath, trying to quell the anger he felt on the young pilot’s behalf. “What happened?”

“I…I don’t know Mav.” The younger man made to sit back down, but Maverick grabbed on to him and started steering him in the direction of his car. “We were doing a practice maneuver out on base, nothing fancy y’know? Nighthawks versus the Sidewinders, Omaha’s squadron. Except we had an odd amount so they paired up a few people from different squadrons. And…and there was an accident.”

Pete’s breath hitched, the way it always would when he heard anything along the lines of “training accident”. But he couldn’t focus on that at the moment.

“Someone, my wingman, got caught in a bird strike. I was on his wing so I rolled to avoid it, and got lucky. But after, the guy that got hit confronted me on the airfield after the hop, saying stuff about how I bailed and left him behind to avoid the bird strike, along with some other shit. Next thing I knew, he was throwing a punch. I dodged, and a few others got involved. I didn’t even hit him back, but by the time a CO got out there to break us apart, he was saying I started it. The CO just looked me up and down…and he must not have liked what he saw, because he didn’t even listen to my side of the story. We, well…I was ordered to make up, so the two units decided we’d go out to a bar, and we wound up here. Only, at the end, after everyone else left, somehow it was just me, and this other guy, and he said he’d have my wings taken, he’d make sure of it, before driving off. I couldn’t just go without paying the bill, but it’s a lot and I can’t cover it. I tried calling Omaha, but there’s no service here, and it didn’t go through, so I’d hoped he’d notice I was missing at some point, and come back to get me.”

A tear slipped down Javy’s face, and he looked up at Maverick with bloodshot eyes. “He’s going to make sure I never step into a fighter jet cockpit again, Mav. I worked so hard to be there, I know I did, and this guy wants to just…take it from me because of an accident. An accident no one will listen to me about.”

Maverick placed his hands on Coyote’s shoulders and got right in his eye line, making sure he had the pilot’s attention. “I’m listening. No one is going to take your wings, that’s just not happening, Javy, you hear me? We can fix it, okay? But first, we have got to get you back to base, so you gotta get in the car for me.”

“But what about…” Javy protested, looking back at the parking lot, which still only had Penny and Maverick’s cars in the lot.

“I’ll make sure the tab is taken care of. But you need to be able to report for duty in a few hours, so we have to go. Besides, I need to have a word with your CO.” Maverick growled, which made Javy look up in alarm.

“Mav, I can’t…you don’t have to do that. Not for me.”

“Coyote, listen to me. You’re one of the best damn pilots I know, and I’d trust you to have my back any day, you AND that detachment we put together. And I’ve got your back too, kid, so if someone wants to take your wings, they’re going to have to get around me as well. You hear me?”

Javy just stared at Maverick, before relaxing, and slowly wrapped himself around the older man, going in for a hug. Maverick wrapped his arms around Javy in turn, and squeezed the taller man, noticing that he was shaking slightly.

“C’mon kid, let’s go.”

A quick pit stop later found Maverick now kitted out in uniform, and driving Javy all way back to the Lemoore base, making it there in record time despite the traffic that still existed at the hours between two and six am. Pulling up at the base, Maverick slightly jostled Javy, who had fallen asleep in the passenger seat on the way, asking him to pull out his id.

The soldier manning the base entrance exited the security office, ready to deliver a practiced spiel when he recognized Maverick. “Sir.” The man saluted, and Maverick nodded, noticing his tag. Lieutenant Hwang.

“I need to speak with the base commander. I also have a stationed lieutenant in my car that needs returning to the barracks.”

“Yes sir.” Hwang began to turn around, before cringing. “Sorry, sir, I uh…I need your ids. It’s…”

“Procedure, I know.” Maverick smiled, hoping to get the young man to ease up. He handed over the ids, and Javy’s caught the soldier’s eye.

“Sir, I hope you don’t mind, but I got a visit a little while ago from two guys telling me to let them know the second Lieutenant Machado made it back on base. Do you want me to call them?”

“Which two guys?” Maverick asked, eyes tightening in suspicion.

“Lieutenants Seresin and Vikander, sir. They seemed worried about him.”

Hangman and Omaha. Maverick relaxed slightly and nodded. “Yeah, you can call them. Let them know I’m coming too, will you?”

“And the base commander?”

“No. He’ll know about me soon enough. Just Seresin and Vikander.”

“Yes sir. Uh… you’re cleared, here are your ids.”

“Thank you.” The soldier opened the gate, and Maverick proceeded inside. Lemoore hadn’t changed all that much since the last time Maverick was stationed here, and he quickly found the barracks where units often cohabitated, recognizing the forms of Hangman and Omaha sitting outside on the ground in uniform.

“Jesus Christ,” Vikander leaped up, pulling Javy out of the car. “Are you alright, man? I am so sorry, I swear, I didn’t know that you were still there, we thought your guys had you, are you alright?”

“Slow down Lieutenant.” Mav interrupted, and Omaha stiffened, finally recognizing Mav’s presence.

“Sir.” He saluted, and Maverick rolled his eyes.

“Omaha, it’s too damn early in the morning for the sir crap.” Maverick snapped, and Hangman was barely able to conceal an amused smirk before looking down at the ground.

“What happened at the Hard Deck tonight?” Maverick asked, raising an eyebrow.

Omaha glanced between Javy and Maverick, and Maverick glanced over at Javy, who looked exhausted, and about ready to fall asleep standing. “Hangman, go get Coyote cleaned up, you three are meant to be reporting for duty in less than an hour. Make sure to give him some coffee, and food, and that he gets a shower. He doesn’t need more trouble for showing up for duty hungover and smelling like a brewery.”

“You got it Mav.” Hangman nodded, lightly grabbing Javy’s shoulder. “C’mon, Machado, time for you to try out that new blend my sister sent me. It’s a bit of a gag gift, because it’s massive, playing on the everything is bigger in Texas joke, but between you, me, and Bradshaw, we’d get through it in a week…” The two of them walked away, leaving Maverick and Omaha alone. Maverick just stared at the younger man expectantly, who gulped.

“There was a training accident yesterday and this guy who got caught in a bird strike picked a fight with Javy…”

“What happened at the bar, Omaha? I know about the training accident, and the fight, I want to know what happened after.” Maverick cut him off, and the younger man just hung his head.

“We took a few cars, and because of space, it ended up being a pretty mixed carpool between the two units. Coyote and I were together going, but we all switched around going back. I went in one car, and I had assumed Javy was in another, but when we got back to base only a few hours ago, he was nowhere in sight. The last one arrived, and it was just two guys in my unit. One of them was the guy who picked a fight with Javy on the airfield, and something just seemed off, like there was an inside joke or something. I asked them where Javy was, and they just said he was a big boy who could get himself home once he settled the tab.”

“So they left him there on purpose.” Maverick nearly closed his eyes in frustration, having his suspicions confirmed.

“It sounded like it. I’d had a few, I knew it wasn’t safe for me to go back and get him, so I went to go find Hangman. Only we tried to go in his car, but it’s been sitting in the lot the whole time since he and Rooster were in Texas, and we couldn’t get it to start. Dead battery. I then tried calling Javy, but he didn’t answer. I tried calling the bar as well, but by that point, it was three am, the bar was closed, and no one was picking up. The only thing we could do was hope Javy found a ride, otherwise, we would’ve gone AWOL as soon as Payback came in from base housing.”

Maverick relaxed slightly, hearing the AWOL idea. Unconventional, and definitely not something he should be encouraging as an Admiral, but he was relieved to know that neither of them would have left Javy behind. “The guy that picked the fight with Javy, he threatened to take his wings. Did you know about that?”

Omaha’s eyes widened, and then his entire face creased into a furious expression. “No way. And it sure as hell isn’t happening, I’ll attest to that myself, I don’t care if that jackass in my squadron.”

“Okay. I need to talk to the base commander; can you tell me who it was who exactly it is who picked the fight?”

“A Lieutenant Jackson Grumman, Mav.”

That made Maverick pause.

“Grumman, as in the aircraft manufacturer?”

“I think so. Guy mentioned being part of a legacy of pilots. Even if he’s not, the name seems to have an influence around here, and he uses it to his advantage.” Omaha warned, frowning, and Maverick snorted.

“So does mine, these days. Thanks, Vikander. Although, next time, when there’s a problem you can’t fix by yourself, call me.” Maverick locked eyes with the Lieutenant, who nodded.

With that, Maverick dismissed Omaha and made his way towards the command offices on base, where he received a lot of surprised, but respectful looks. The lieutenant managing the desk inside the offices immediately picked up the phone.

It was time he made his presence known.

Soon enough, Maverick found himself being greeted by the base commander, Captain Lennox whom Maverick vaguely remembered now from his flag ceremony.

“Admiral Mitchell, welcome back to Naval Air Station Lemoore.” The Captain greeted him, and Maverick nodded.

“Thank you, Captain. I got a call this morning about one of the lieutenants here on base, and I intend to follow up on it. Can we discuss this in your office?”

Lennox was caught off guard, but nodded, and opened his office door, gesturing for Pete to enter.

“Lennox. Any relation to Lieutenant Brigham Lennox, by any chance?” The two of them sat.

“Yes sir, he’s my nephew. He was under your command for a brief while, I understand?” Captain Lennox inquired, and Pete nodded.

“Yes he was, he’s a good pilot. He was also a groomsman at my wedding.” Pete mentioned, and Lennox’s expression brightened.

“He mentioned that, come to think of it. My apologies, it slipped my mind momentarily. Good to know you like him that much, sir. Congratulations on the marriage, by the way, please give my best to former Admiral Kazansky.”

“Will do. Now, let’s discuss the phone call I received.” Pete stated, and Captain Lennox’s expression shifted back into neutral.

“Do you mind my asking about the call you got sir, and why I was not contacted instead?” Lennox asked carefully. He didn’t like being out of the loop.

“I was called at about two in the morning by a bartender to discover two of your units left a soldier stranded in Fightertown last night after being instructed to make up off-duty following a dispute on the airfield yesterday.”

Lennox winced, and Maverick pulled back, realizing how dangerously aggressive his tone had gotten. He didn’t need to take this out on Lennox, at least not yet.

“They left him there, alone?” Lennox asked, frowning at the idea. Maverick softened, liking that that was what the Captain had picked up on.

“The bartender happened to be a friend of mine, and recognized the uniform,” Maverick fudged the details, wanting to avoid implying that Javy was a regular at a bar, which would not be a good look for any pilot. “She called me, I went to go see who it was, and I quickly discovered that not only was the Lieutenant left stranded but that he was intentionally targeted by the other party involved, left behind with threats to take his wings. This particular Lieutenant also served with your nephew under my command, which should tell you how good of a pilot he is, and why that would be a damn shame.”

Captain Lennox blinked, shock apparent on his face for a moment, before taking on a neutral expression, before picking up a phone. “Jones, get Commander Barr in my office now!”

Lennox put down the phone before locking eyes with Maverick. “It was my understanding that the incident on the airfield was the result of high tensions following a training exercise gone wrong, and while fists were thrown, blows were not exchanged.” Maverick waited patiently, hearing the Captain out.

“The commanding officer who handled it informed me later that the two walked it off with a warning, and that was the end of it. Given what you’ve just told me, that was incorrect.” Lennox explained when a knock on the door interrupted him.

Lennox called out for the person to enter, revealing a man Maverick assumed to be Commander Barr. Barr entered, immediately zeroing his gaze on Maverick, who just stared back at him, both of them sizing each other up.

“Commander Barr, this is Admiral Pete Mitchell, Commander of the Pacific Fleet. He’s become somewhat involved in an incident following the dispute on the airfield yesterday, and we both intend to hear your perspective on the events if you would.” Lennox said, making the request sound like an order.

Barr nodded, greeting Pete, before sitting down, body angled towards Maverick. Clearly, Barr wanted to impress him.

“Sirs. I was running the command tower yesterday, while we were running a training maneuver, which went fine until a Lieutenant Grumman was caught in a bird strike on the return and forced to make an emergency landing following left-wing engine failure. Lieutenant Machado, his assigned wingman for the exercise was not struck, and returned to the base intact, while recovery teams retrieved Grumman. As is a standard on my watch, no one leaves the airfield until all boots are on the ground, but once Grumman arrived, an altercation occurred. I was not there to witness the beginning of the exchange, coming down from the tower, but by the time I had reached them, both Grumman and Machado were being held back by members of their respective squadrons.”

Pete mentally noted that Barr was admitting to not seeing the start of the fight, but let him continue. “Grumman told me that Machado had started it, throwing the first punch, and continued displaying aggressive behavior, so Grumman defended himself. I told them both to drop the issue and step away, figuring that they were just being influenced by the stress of the accident. I warned Machado that he couldn’t just lash out at people and that they needed to work things out on their own time. Everyone walked away, no harm, no foul, and later in the evening, I was told that the two squadrons had gone out to a bar to hash things over.”

Pete nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Did you speak to Machado or any of the other Lieutenants at the scene following the incident?” He asked, and Barr shook his head.

“No sir? I didn’t see a reason to.”

“You didn’t see a reason to get both sides of the story, even though you didn’t witness the entire incident?” Pete asked, and Barr coughed, realizing the slip-up.

“I…no sir. As I said, I just chalked it up to high tensions, and took it for what it was.”

“Well, you were lied to, Commander. I’ve heard two accounts now of what happened yesterday, one from Machado and one from a Lieutenant in Grumman’s own squadron. Both of whom confirmed it was Grumman who started the fight.”

“That would surprise me, sir.” Commander Barr responded far too quickly, which caused Pete to internally recoil. Even Lennox raised an eyebrow.

“Why’s that?” Pete asked, eyeing Barr.

“Grumman’s a good pilot and an exemplary soldier. He’s never late, never had an issue with authority, never even lost an aircraft until yesterday. He’s a natural leader, genuinely a likable person, and well on his way to working up the ranks soon. Machado, on the other hand, is…different.” Barr trailed off, glancing at Lennox.

“Different how?” Pete asked, suspicion growing within him.

“He’s lazy. He talks back, and has had several conflicts with commanding officers before, and while some would argue that he’s the better pilot of the two, he’s toeing the line for disciplinary action. He and Grumman should have been locked together, and yet only Grumman was affected by the bird strike. In my opinion, they should have both gone down if Machado followed orders.”

Pete’s mouth nearly dropped open. “Really?”

Any pilot knew how dangerous an emergency landing could be, or how bad a bird strike could impact an aircraft. Pilots were heavily trained to avoid them, not just for the safety of the aircraft, but the safety of the pilots, so for Barr to question Javy for avoiding the bird strike, implying that he should have compromised himself and his jet out of loyalty? That was inexcusable.

Barr nodded, gaining confidence as he mistook his superior officer’s shocked silence for tolerance of his perspective. 

Big mistake.

“Can you point out the past incidents with commanding officers in his file, Commander?” Pete asked with a dangerously-low tone, which made Barr freeze.

“Uh…no, sir. Most of his infractions have been minor, so I haven’t felt the need to fully document them yet.”

“Really?” Maverick was done now. He wasn’t going to listen to this man for another minute.

“You know, I was actually Machado’s commanding officer last year, during a period in which he was selected for a special detachment,” Pete mentioned, and Barr paled. Lennox’s eyes danced back and forth between the two men, getting an idea of what was coming.

“During that time, I read his file. Memorized it, in fact. You’re right, there aren’t any incidents of conflicts with commanding officers. Instead, he has several commendations and was highly recommended, not just some people arguing that he’s the better pilot. No, I’m talking about the best analysts the Navy has to offer, who handpicked him as the cream of the crop just last year, one of 12, out of the entire Navy, including your so-called star, Grumman. So please, explain to me again why you seem to have such a problem with Machado.”

Under the gazes of both men, Barr shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I…well, uh…sir? I…”

Pete had lost his patience with this man. “Or better yet, Commander, tell me why you didn’t ask for Machado’s side of the incident, which would be standard procedure in this or any instance of fighting, as per the Uniform Code.”

Barr continued to cower, and Pete started drumming his fingers, face neutral as he waited for an answer. “That was not a rhetorical question, Commander. Why didn’t you ask Machado about the fight?”

“Because he looked like the type to start it.” Barr blurted out, confirming exactly what Pete expected to hear.

A quick glance towards Lennox showed Pete a reflection of the sheer fury he felt inside.

Maverick was going to bury Barr.

“And that has nothing to do with the fact that Machado isn’t white, would it Commander?” Pete asked, his voice dropping into a low growl.

Barr looked up at Pete, ready to retort and defend himself, but Lennox cut him off.

“I’ve heard enough. Thank you, Admiral Mitchell, for bringing this back to my attention. If you don’t mind, I’d like to handle the rest of this matter. I can assure you that Lieutenant Machado will not be punished for this incident, and we will be investigating Lieutenant Grumman’s behavior, especially for what happened at the bar last night. It is unacceptable to me by any standard, let alone the code of conduct, and you, Commander Barr will be hearing words from me in just a moment. Ones you absolutely will not like.” Lennox threatened.

Pete stood, satisfied. Lennox and Barr also stood, with opposing looks of admiration and disgust, watching as Pete made to leave.

But before he did, he had one more thing to say.

“Thank you, Captain. I trust this will be handled swiftly. One more thing, though, while I do think about it. On top of leaving Machado stranded, the tab was left open at the bar in question, with a significant amount left unpaid. The owner also informed me that if it is not closed out soon, she will press charges, and I have an obligation as her friend to tell her whom she should pursue if that ends up being the case. I suggest Lieutenant Grumman take responsibility for that matter before she does.” Pete stated, and Lennox nodded.

“Understood Admiral.”

With that, Pete left and made his way back to the barracks, where he found Omaha, Payback, Rooster, Hangman, and Coyote all waiting by his car. Others from their respective squadrons also gathered around, avoiding eye contact when they spotted Pete’s uniform. 

“Hey, Mav.” Rooster grinned, and Maverick smiled back at his godson, before directing his attention to Coyote. Javy looked much better than the last time he’d seen him, wearing a clean flight suit and his usual attentive expression.

“Your commanding officer is a piece of shit,” Pete stated, drawing a soft grin to the younger pilot’s face.

“Barr? Yeah, he is. I’ve dealt with his type before though, I can handle him.” It didn’t even surprise Maverick that Javy knew exactly who he was talking about.

Pete smirked. “Not anymore, you won’t.”

Coyote’s eyes widened, realizing what Pete was implying. His mouth dropped open.

“You serious?”

“If he’s still here tomorrow, I’d be surprised,” Pete commented, which drew a laugh from Payback. Javy just blinked, before a slow grin grew on his face. 

“Hey Mav, can I call you if I ever run into a problem like that?” Reuben asked, somewhat joking.

But Maverick just nodded with a serious look. “Anytime.”

All of the pilots paused, registering his answer.

One by one, soft smiles adorned all of their faces as they realized just how much Maverick was willing to do for them.

“Copy that, sir,” Coyote said, before pulling Maverick into a hug. “Thanks, Mav.” He whispered, and Maverick just patted him on the back.

“Anytime,” Maverick told him, pulling away, before nodding at all of the other gathered pilots.

He pulled his keys out, unlocking the car before something occurred to him, and he glanced over at the group. “Oh, and Coyote, Omaha?”

The two straightened, waiting. “Maybe next time…go to a closer bar.”

Both of the addressed pilots laughed, and Maverick got in his car, keeping his eyes on the group of aviators as he drove away. Just as he was leaving the base, his phone started to ring, and Maverick checked the caller id, seeing that it was Ice. Accepting the call through the car’s Bluetooth system, the sound of his husband yawning sounded through the speakers.

“Hey, good morning. I was wondering when you’d wake up.” Pete teased.

At the other end, Ice rubbed his eyes, glancing at the cold, empty space next to him in bed. “And I was wondering where you were.”

Pete chuckled, nodding to the soldier running the gate as he left the base, who nodded back with a big grin and a thumbs up.

“It’s a long story. But I’ve got a long drive ahead of me, so if you’ve got the time, I’d love to tell you about it.”

“Mav, for you I have all the time in the world.” Ice replied, settling back against the cushions as he lay comfortably in bed.

“Well, it started with a phone call at o-two hundred this morning…”

Chapter Text

After serving as the COMPACFLT for two months, Pete was finally starting to get the hang of this whole Admiral thing, but he still found himself frustrated at the constraints of the role. So when Ice suggested taking his P-51 up for a date, their first one since getting married, Pete jumped at the chance, ready to have a moment of relaxation up in the air with his husband.

And today was the day of said date.

All Pete wanted to do was leave, shower, change, and drag his husband out to the airfield, but something was in his way.

Specifically a meeting. A meeting that had only been scheduled yesterday. He didn’t even know what it was about, but apparently, that wasn't even a requirement in his job these days. 

A knock at the door finally signaled that Pete’s appointment was here, and he tried to reserve himself, not wanting to sound too eager for this entire encounter to be over. “Come in.”

“Admiral Mitchell?” A man entered, and Pete stood up, ready to greet him.

“Captain Gregory Wiseman, thank you for meeting with me.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain. What can I do for you, or the Astronaut Office?” Pete asked, hiding his surprised expression at recognizing the name, and gesturing for him to sit.

Wiseman smiled, relieved at the recognition. “I’d like to talk to you about one of our current applicants. When we review potential candidates for our positions, we make a habit of meeting with commanding officers, both current and former, to get a clear picture of who we’re considering before we pull them out of active duty for training.”

“I see. Who’s the applicant?”

“A Lieutenant Mickey Garcia, I believe he operates under the callsign…”

“Fanboy.” Pete smiled, and Wiseman nodded.

“Yes sir. I know he was pulled in for a special detachment serving under you last year, and selected for the specific operation they were being trained for. I was hoping to hear your thoughts on him.”

“Well, he’s a good kid, and he’s got a great record. One hell of a WSO, he can certainly keep his head in frantic scenarios. A bit of a chatterbox on a good day, but he works well with different people. He can easily swap out pilots because he gets along with everybody. He's well-liked and well-prepared. Not cocky, not arrogant, doesn't have an ego but takes pride in his work. Also, he lives up to his callsign. He spent a good hour ranting about Star Trek at my bachelor party when I got married.” Pete chuckled, and Wiseman laughed.

“Our command center crew will love that. Any chance they get, a fight gets started about Star Trek, Star Wars, or whatever other popular sci-fi is discussable these days. They need more voices to add ammunition.”

Pete’s smile grew at the idea of Fanboy geeking out with mission control, trading quips, and pop culture references while prepping for a launch sequence. “When did he apply for the Astronaut Corps?”

“About two years ago. As I’m sure you’re aware, private space travel is becoming more popular, and we’ve fallen behind on plans for space exploration, but we’re prepping a new batch of astronauts for the Space Station, a long-term deployment, and Garcia’s a prime pick for a spot.”

“How long-term?” Pete asked.

“Six months. Following an 18-month training program, which is why we are so specific about our candidates before we pick them. It’s one hell of a commitment.” Wiseman said.

Pete whistled. “It certainly is. I think he’d be up for the challenge though.”

Wiseman grinned and stood up, an action Pete mirrored.

“Thank you for your time, Admiral. Your recommendation had been very helpful.” He said, offering his hand out to Pete.

“Thank you for approaching me. If he does get the spot, would you let me know? I’d like to be able to congratulate him.”

“In that case, Admiral, why don’t you meet me at Naval Air Station Oceana next week. This was pretty much the last thing we had on the list before approving him, and we’re already ready to make our decision. I plan to tell him in person.”

Pete grinned and nodded. “I’ll be there. Thank you, Captain.”

The grin didn’t fade from his face for the rest of the night.

Naval Air Station Oceana was abuzz with news when Mickey Garcia woke up that morning, gossip flying around the base faster than an F-18 about the four-star Admiral who had shown up on base for some kind of meeting.

They didn’t normally have the Admiralty on base, not so close to the likes of the Pentagon and the White House, but when there was an Admiral on base, people took notice.

Harvard and Yale wouldn’t shut up about it when Mickey joined them in the mess this morning, theorizing what was going on.

“I heard they’re selecting candidates for another special detachment,” Brigham said, picking at his food.

“C’mon, how many special detachments do they need?” Logan protested, glaring at his WSO. “If they needed a special detachment of pilots, they should’ve just kept us lot together in Fightertown. Mav trained us to be the best.”

“That’s true.” A familiar voice cut in, and the three naval officers looked up to see Maverick standing there in his uniform. The rest of the mess was staring in silence until jealous muttering scattered about as Yale practically leaped to hug him.

“Mav, the fuck are you doing here?” Harvard asked, getting up as well to shake his hand. Maverick greeted the younger man, before locking eyes with Mickey, who stood next in line to greet him.

“I’m here to talk to Fanboy.”

Fanboy blanched, immediately worried that he’d done something wrong. “I…am I in trouble, sir?”

Maverick rolled his eyes at the honorific but didn't correct it. This wasn't the place for that. “No, Lieutenant, you’re not in trouble. The opposite in fact. C’mon, I’m here with somebody who wants to meet you.”

Fanboy exchanged glances with Harvard and Yale, but dutifully followed Maverick out of the mess, ignoring the wide-eyed glances and suspicious stares that they left behind.

“So I was in a meeting last week,” Maverick mentioned, noticing the tense body language of the younger man. “...and the topic of you came up.”

A meeting about him? Why him? Specifically?

“Oh?” Mickey asked, sweating.

“They were asking for my thoughts on you, actually looking for my recommendation,” Maverick said, which made Mickey do a double-take.

“A recommendation? For what?” Mickey couldn't help but be flattered. He knew Maverick thought highly of him, but he never would have expected the Admiral to recommend him for a position.

“The meeting was with Captain Gregory Wiseman from the Astronaut Corps,” Maverick said, and Fanboy froze.

It had been months since his application, and he'd not heard anything substantial back in a while, so he'd expected nothing to come from it.

This didn't sound like nothing. 

“The…Astronaut Corps? Are…are you serious?” Mickey stammered, staring at Maverick in pure shock.

Maverick just nodded. “And after that meeting, Captain Wiseman decided he wanted to meet you.”

Mickey’s mouth ran dry.

“Mav…am I being considered for the Astronaut program?”

Maverick smirked and his eyes twinkled. “I promised not to say anything until after Wiseman filled you in. So get a move on, kid, before any more crazy theories circle the base about why I’m here.”

Mickey had never hauled ass so fast in his life.

Maverick led him to a conference room where they normally did debriefings and classes for the pilots, and upon entering the room, Mickey was greeted by multiple people, all in uniforms that clearly denoted them as higher-ranking officers. He couldn't help but notice one in particular who had a ribbon that Mickey had only ever dreamed about having on his uniform.

“You must be Lieutenant Garcia?” The man stepped forward, offering his hand out to Mickey.

“Yes sir. Captain Wiseman, I presume?”

Wiseman nodded and glanced around Mickey to make eye contact with Maverick, an eyebrow raised as if to ask "What did you tell him?"

Maverick just held up his hands in surrender and stayed quiet, so Wiseman directed his gaze back to Mickey.

“Well, son, I’ve been in a lot of meetings discussing you lately, building up to this, and since I’m not a patient man or one for the theatrics, I might as well just come out and say it, no pun intended Mitchell,” Wiseman took a breath, locking eye contact with Mickey, ignoring Pete's quiet snort of amusement.

“I would like to offer you a spot training for the Astronaut Corps to serve on the International Space Station.”

Mickey’s mouth dropped open. He didn't say anything for a moment, wondering if he was being pranked, or if he was dreaming, and then a slight nudge on his back reminded him that this was real.

This was very real.

And he had to say something.

“I…sir, yes, sir. Yes, please.” He was speechless, unable to think of anything else to say, but the smiles on his COs surrounding him gave him the confidence to actually process what was happening. He hadn’t just been considered, he’d been PICKED for the space program. He was going to space!

A hand clapped on his shoulder and Mickey turned around to see Mav grinning at him.

“I’m going to space!”

“I know! Congratulations!” Maverick said, pulling the kid into a hug. “Why don’t you go grab Harvard and Yale, I’ve got permission to take you three to celebrate.”

“You need permission these days?” Mickey asked cheekily, and Maverick laughed before pointing to the stars on his uniform.

“This is the permission, kid. Now go tell your damn friends you’re going to space.”

Mickey saluted, saying “Yes sir!” before turning back to Captain Wiseman. “Thank you, sir, for this opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

Wiseman nodded, and stood next to Maverick, watching Mickey bolt down the hallway back to the mess hall, catching him pump his fists in the air as he went.

“You’re right, good kid.” He said, and Maverick nodded, never taking his eyes off Mickey.

“Great kid.” He whispered.

20 months later…

Preparations for the new SpaceX crew’s takeoff were underway at the Kennedy Space Center as thousands of people gathered to watch the rocket take off, civilians and military alike. In a private locker room, Mickey was getting suited up, preparing for the journey he had been training for, for months, thrilled that it was finally happening today.

And nervous.

God, he was very nervous.

His mama and tio had flown into Florida yesterday, to watch the launch in person, and he practically lifted her off the ground as he celebrated his excitement with them.

Claudia Garcia brushed her hand against Mickey’s face, a motion he remembered her doing throughout his childhood, when she had had to go to work, and promised to be back later, settling him in front of the tv to watch her old Star Trek VHS tapes so he wouldn’t be lonely.

“I’m going to space, mama,” Mickey had whispered and she grinned.

“I know, mijo! I’m so proud of you!”

“We both are.” His tio, his mama’s twin brother, grabbed Mickey’s shoulder and pulled him into a tight side hug. “And we get to watch you go up there, in that rocket, waving at you the whole time, kid. You better wave back, mi pequeño cosmonauta.”

“Sí tío, te devolveré el saludo.” Mickey promised.

Mickey wished he could wave to his family right then, at least see them before he left the planet, literally, but they were probably in the viewing stands by now, making sure they had a good view while Facetiming his brothers and sister.

A knock on the door broke him out of his thoughts, and Mickey looked up to see Maverick standing there with a raised eyebrow.

“You okay, Fanboy?”

“Yeah, I…just nervous I guess. Training can only do so much, right?” Mickey joked.

Maverick scoffed and smiled. “Tell me about it. It’s not the same.”

Mickey looked down at his helmet, which he was supposed to carry across the gangway before getting on the elevator up to the rocket. “I imagined this…so many times growing up. It was my dream to go to space, be an astronaut. First thing I told the recruiters when they came to my high school. They all dropped names, like Armstrong, Glenn, Shepard, and I…I’ll admit, I was impressed. And then I signed up, got to boot camp, and it seemed like a pipe dream, that I’d signed up to fly, but I’d never see the stars.”

“And it’s not a pipe dream anymore,” Maverick said gently.

“No,” Mickey laughed disbelievingly. “It’s not, and isn’t that crazy? It’s everything I’d hoped it would be, and I just know, I’m going to love it up there, Mav! Looking out that window and seeing the Earth below, and the stars above? I’ll never see anything else like it.” And then Mickey’s smile faded a little. “But when I come back down, what tops that? What do I do after that?”

Understanding dawned on Maverick’s face. “Ah, well…that’s up to you, I guess. But it doesn’t have to be a one-time thing, Fanboy. You can go back up if you want to, NASA won’t really say no to having experienced pilots up there." Mickey shrugged, knowing that was true. Several people on the Space Station served multiple times up there. "But in my experience, there’s a lot more to look forward to after this, take it from me.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. My dream growing up was to be a pilot for the Navy, that was literally the most important thing in the world to me.” Maverick said, sitting on a nearby bench, and Mickey sat next to him. “In flight school, I remember coasting through it, more eager than anyone to get into a cockpit, waiting for it to be real, so on the day I got my wings, I was high on that feeling of joy and achievement, and it never went away! Not even, as it turns out, after I stopped flying for the Navy.”

“Why?” Mickey asked, confused.

“Because along the way, while I fulfilled that dream, I got more. I met my best friend and got a family, a godson I love like my own kid, a husband who means the world to me, trained a bunch of kids who turned out to be the finest pilots in the Navy, and the chance to make a real difference in the institution I dedicated my life to. Doors opened to experiences I didn’t even know I wanted, and they kept that high going. I’m confident it’ll be the same for you.”

Maverick’s words made Mickey relax, and he allowed himself to smile, and let Maverick pull him into a hug. “I’m really proud of you, kid. We all are.” Pete nodded, and Fanboy smiled, nodding back as he held back tears.

“Thanks Mav. I’ll make sure to tell you all about it when I get back.”

“You better. Now go, before they decide to take off without you.” Maverick gave him a gentle push, and Mickey picked up the helmet, scuttling out of the room where NASA employees were waiting to shepherd him to the shuttle. As the door to the locker room swung closed, he could hear the press and the people cheering Mickey on as he made the trip that would change his life.

Quietly, Maverick left the locker room and rejoined Ice, who was watching from a viewing box above Mission Control, eyes glued to a screen showing the rocket in all its glory. The rest of the special detachment watched on as well, all in uniform lined up to cheer their cohort on, next to other officers and VIPs who had gathered to watch the launch.

“He okay?” Ice whispered, noticing Maverick return.

“Yeah, he’s gonna be just fine,” Maverick replied, as confirmation calls started echoing throughout the room as people did their final checks before the launch.

“Alright, we are all a go. Crew, are you a go?”

Mickey’s voice sounded through the speaker. “We are a go, Command. Let’s punch it.”

Laughs echoed throughout the control room, and amongst the assembled military personnel. Payback just shook his head, exasperated with his former WSO’s antics.

“Copy that, crew. Cue countdown. T minus 10.”

Maverick wormed his hand into his husband's, gripping it tightly as the anticipation started to build. 

“9.”

“8.”

“7.”

“6.”

“5.”

“4.”

“3.”

“2.”

“1.”

Maverick stopped breathing.

“Launch is ago. Godspeed SpaceX.” Fire erupted out of the bottom of the rocket, concealing the view of the ship in exhaust and smoke, and the supports fell away as the rocket rose sharply into the air.

“We have a good trajectory, readings normal.” One of the operators said, and the cameras watching the rocket followed its ascent.

No one was breathing, all waiting in anticipation.

"Still on target."

Just a few more moments, waiting for the rocket to reach a specific altitude.

“Launch successful. Have a good flight, SpaceX.” The operator said, and the whole room burst into cheers.

The young aviators jumped around, shaking and hugging each other, and people whooped out, yelling the names of the SpaceX crew, Mickey’s being the loudest. As camera shots focused on the crew’s families outside, Maverick smiled, seeing Mickey’s mom and uncle also cheering, looking up at the sky, pointing their phones at the rocket with matching expressions of pride on their faces.

The same expression that he wore himself.

Chapter Text

Maverick had to find out about the crash from the news.

For some reason, his office came with a truly ridiculous amount of televisions, and his aide insisted on turning every single one of them on when he reported for duty in the morning. Pete almost never paid attention to them, and usually ended up putting them all on mute.

Which is why it bothered him to hear the sound of a tv coming from his office as he returned from a security briefing, and groaned at the idea of someone making themselves at home in his office waiting for him. Even if it was Ice, the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to someone because if he had to hold another intelligent conversation within the next five minutes, he would actually leave the base via his window.

Opening the door, he blinked at seeing Captain Bran Davies standing in his office, staring intently at one of the screens, remote in hand. Davies was Maverick’s aide, a prompt young man who had risen through the ranks astonishingly fast and was assigned to him a day after reaching the rank of Captain. Pete liked him well enough, but he was sure that the only reason Davies was there was that he was competent enough to fill the gaps in the shoes that Maverick wasn't quite able to fill. 

“Davies, I have those muted for a reason,” Maverick warned, putting the documents he had in hand on his desk, before looking back at Davies, who hadn’t even reacted to him.

“Davies.” Maverick frowned, walking back towards his subordinate, before glancing at the screen to see a reporter standing outside the Lemoore base, gesturing behind herself at the airfield, where Maverick could see a jet engulfed in fire.

An F-18 Super Hornet.

He’d never been so fast at picking up a phone.

It took Maverick five hours to find out that the jet burning on the Lemoore taxiway had been Jake Seresin’s, which only further infuriated him because it had taken him personally driving all the way down to the base and demanding information to learn anything.

And then that fury was replaced entirely with horror upon being told it had taken nearly 20 minutes to rescue Hangman from inside the burning aircraft.

20 minutes was a lifetime and could have been a death sentence, and in Pete's mind, was damn well just not good enough.

But that didn't matter.

What did matter was that the minute they'd pulled him out of the jet, they'd shoved him in an ambulance, taking him to a surgical theatre at near hypersonic speeds, and no one seemed to be able to tell him why.

On a personal principle, Maverick usually didn’t agree with the concept of a commander’s “right to know”, in which medical providers could give him updates on the statuses of every person that served underneath him on the basis of knowing how it would affect their abilities to do their job. Sure, it mattered, but it could get abused, and it was invasive. It definitely shouldn’t extend to the updates Pete demanded during the middle of what was probably lifesaving treatment, but the medic that Maverick scared the shit out of upon barging into the military hospital didn’t even question it.

And in less than three minutes, he had a doctor giving him a live update on Jake Seresin’s condition outside the surgery room where he was being operated on. Pete tried to ignore the specks of blood he could see on her disposable gown that likely belonged to said pilot, and listen to what she was saying, but it was hard to tear his eyes away from them.

“Seresin sustained significant damage both during and following the crash, due to prolonged exposure to the heat, the flames, and the fumes, Admiral,” Lieutenant Commander Javicia Monroe explained to Pete, professionally ignoring the distress growing in the Admiral’s eyes.

“The oxygen supply in his mask prevented him from inhaling most of the smoke from the burning kerosene, but due to the sheer amount of pollution trapped inside with him and the amount of time in which he was exposed to it, the fumes did leave an impact. He has severe burns on his hands, as it appears he removed the gloves in an attempt to force his way out of the cockpit. There are also burns on his face, particularly around his eyes, which were also affected.”

Monroe took a breath before continuing. “The heat also was a problem, between the flames and the fact that it was over 100 degrees outside on the tarmac today. I couldn’t tell you the exact number, but by the time vitals were being taken by the medics on the scene, Lieutenant Seresin was suffering from a body temperature of 103 degrees. Combined with the chemical exposure, his body started shutting down, and hyperthermia set in.”

“None of that explains why he is in surgery.” Maverick reminded her, and she nodded, pausing for a moment.

“Lieutenant Seresin is in surgery because when his jet crashed on the tarmac, it did so with such a force that the integrity of the internal body structure collapsed. That’s why it took so long to get him out, Admiral. The jet bent in half and crushed his legs upon impact.”

Crushed.

Not broken, not damaged, crushed.

Crushed was...bad.

Was she saying Hangman was about to lose his legs?

“I…so what exactly is being treated in there, right now?” Pete stammered, trying to focus, knowing that he had to get all of the information before he spiraled into a panic.

“What we can treat, Admiral,” Monroe said. “It wouldn’t normally be customary to handle everything at once, but given Lieutenant Seresin’s profession and history, time is a factor we want on our side, so we're multitasking. We are confident that we can save Lieutenant Seresin’s legs," She stressed, making sure he heard what she was trying to say. "And we are also attempting to assess the burns on his face, to understand the extent of which his vision might have been impacted. We will know more after. Now, I would be happy to continue providing you, and his family with updates, and any other approved medical contacts over the next few hours, but I do need to get back in the theatre.”

Maverick closed his eyes at hearing the word family, remembering that Jake had sisters.

He should call them.

And Rooster.

God, he needed to talk to Rooster.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. I’ll let you get back to him.” Maverick nodded, and Monroe left, leaving him standing alone in the hallway.

Rubbing his face as he processed the plethora of horrifying information he’d just learned, Maverick felt his own heart start to race in the way he imagined Jake’s had out on the tarmac. Without so much as a second thought, he found a nearby supply closet, dark and secluded, and bolted inside, needing an immediate sense of privacy as he pulled out his phone, dialing the first of his favorite contacts.

“Pete? What’s going on, Davies called me.” Ice’s voice sounded through the phone as panic spread throughout Mav’s chest, making breathing more difficult.

“I…I’m at the military hospital at Lemoore.” He forced out, making himself talk. He had to talk to Ice, he couldn’t just fall apart.

“I saw the crash on the news, they said the pilot had been trapped inside?” Ice said, glancing at the tv on his end, still showing coverage of the airfield, revealing the now-burned shell of the F-18 still on the tarmac.

“Ice, it wasn’t just any pilot,” Pete said, his throat tightening as he gasped for air. “It was Hangman.”

Ice gasped. “Is he alright?”

Pete shook his head, trying to make the words come out. “No…no he’s not alright. He…his legs were crushed and he was trapped…he was trapped in the cockpit, Tom, while his jet was on fire! His jet was on fire, and he was pinned inside, and the canopy didn’t open, so the fumes were trapped with him. They’re lucky his oxygen tank didn’t explode! He has burns on his hands and face, and they’re probably worried about heatstroke, but they're definitely worried about his eyes, because of the chemicals. He nearly died in there. As it is…he might not fly again.”

Ice was speechless, hearing Maverick explain Jake’s injuries. Everything Pete said sounded awful, but there was something in his stressed tone that just wrenched his heart in two.

“Pete, are you alright?”

Pete froze, or tried to, despite physically shaking in panic.

“I’m fine, it’s Hangman that I need to be worried about right…”

“Pete, it’s okay to be upset.” Ice cut him off. “It’s okay if you’re not fine right now because you care deeply for Jake, and you’re scared for him.”

“I have to be fine right now because I need to talk to Jake’s sisters and Rooster. I need to be fine for them…” Pete argued, hearing his weak defense and cringing.

“Yes, but you’re not doing that right now. Right now you need to be not fine for you. So right now, you are allowed to not be fine, you are allowed to take a moment and just process this, okay? Isn’t that why you called me?” Ice asked, and Pete closed his eyes, feeling relieved and then guilty for feeling the relief.

“Yes. I just…why did we do this job, Tom? God, why do we keep putting people in this situation, knowing what the risks are? It took me five hours to find out it was him in that plane, I don't have a clue when or what his sisters have been told, and there is nothing I can do to help him, or fix it. I’m losing sight of what the point is here, and now I’m in a job where it feels like I’m just sending them into danger pointlessly.”

“I won’t say I don’t disagree with you Pete,” Ice said delicately, realizing that they were now touching on a much deeper issue than he had previously realized. “There were times when I admit I didn’t see much point in what we were doing and was always afraid of being the old man in a profession where people usually die young. It hit me, especially every time I got a call about you ending up in a hospital bed.”

Pete leaned against a wall, listening to his husband articulate a near-perfect reflection of what was going through his own head.

“But it was also you that helped me find that faith again. Every single time, in fact.” Ice said, which caught Pete’s attention.

“Me? But I didn’t do anything.” Pete frowned, and Ice just laughed.

“Yes you did, love. You reminded me constantly of what served for beauty in our line of work, pushing the limits of the sky higher, further, and faster not out of service, or duty, but out of sheer love for the experience! Your antics were a pain to deal with, but they were also a reassurance, a comfort that kept my eye on the ball. So I did it for you because knowing how happy you were made me happy. And you’re doing it for them. Rooster, and Phoenix, and Coyote, Bob, all of them, even Hangman, feel the same way in the air as you did. I mean, look at Fanboy, remember how he was when prepping for the space station? None of them would trade it for the world.” Ice said, and tears slipped down Pete’s face.

“Ice…I…” Pete didn’t know what to say, flushing at the admission. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Ice smiled, closing his own eyes as a tear slipped down his face. “I love you too, Mav. Now, you need to go, give my love to Rooster, and keep me updated on Hangman, yeah?”

“Okay. Ice?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Thank you. I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re the reason I stayed in the Navy, not just because you stopped me from getting discharged, but because I didn’t want you to be alone. I wouldn’t still be in this job without you, and I’m…I’m so grateful, Tom. For you, for everything. And I’m so glad we didn’t waste another minute.”

“So am I. I love you, Pete. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Bye.” Pete hung up the phone and took a breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before climbing to his feet. He needed to compose himself.

Swallowing harshly, Pete exited the supply closet and walked towards the waiting room, where he was unsurprised to see a crowd of people in service uniforms gathered. Hangman’s entire unit was there, all grouped to one side, members of the special detachment on the other, and Captain Lennox standing in the middle with Rooster, talking quietly. Everyone noticed Maverick approaching, and they all leaped to their feet, questions hanging in the air.

Rooster beat them all to it. “Mav, is he okay?”

Maverick took a breath, and said “Captain Lennox, can I have a word in private?”

Hopeful expressions dropped, and Rooster gasped sharply, Phoenix immediately surging to his side as Maverick’s godson stumbled back, fear surging through him as Maverick deferred to his CO instead. The addressed Captain nodded, and stepped closer to Maverick, ready to hear the bad news.

“He’s in surgery. Still alive, but he has sustained severe damage to his face, hands, and legs. They’re specifically worried about his eyes, but the priority is on serious surgical intervention on his legs to prevent amputation. The doctors have said they’ll know more when the surgery completes in a few hours.”

“Hours? Wait, amputation?” Lennox gasped quietly. Maverick nodded grimly, and Lennox swore, rubbing his face.

“What are his chances?” Lennox asked, grief taking over his face.

“It’s looking good,” Maverick said, mouth ticking up at the unintentional reference he had made to Hangman, but continued. “They think they can avoid drastic measures, but in all likelihood, based on what I heard, I'm almost convinced he won’t fly a fighter jet again. Not for a long while. This is going to be a nasty recovery.”

Lennox nodded, looking defeated. “I see. Thank you, Admiral, I will privately inform his unit and other relevant personnel. Will you handle…?” Lennox cocked his head in the direction of the detachment pilots and WSOs, inquiring about how to handle them.

“Yeah, I’ve got them. Do you have any word on his sisters, yet?”

“Yeah, two are on their way. The oldest and the middle sister, Judy, and Jordan. They should land at LAS any minute, and get a connection to Fresno. They should be here in about an hour or so."

“Alright. Send me the details, I’ll pick them up myself. And I’m taking Bradshaw with me, he’s met them, he’ll know who to look for.”

“Yeah. I’ll give Machado, Trace, and Floyd some leave for the next couple of days, so they can keep everyone updated. And extended emergency leave for Bradshaw, cause I’m sure as hell not putting that kid back in a jet while Seresin’s in a hospital bed. I don't give a damn what there may or may not be between them, I'm not risking another jet knowing Rooster's proclivity for crashing planes for people he cares about.”

“And I’d like a report on what exactly happened to him, and that jet ASAP,” Maverick ordered, agreeing with the comment about Rooster, and Lennox nodded.

“As soon as I get it, you will.”

With that, the conversation ended, and Lennox ordered Hangman’s unit outside, ready to fill them in. Rooster, Bob, Phoenix, Coyote, Fritz, Halo, Omaha, and Payback waited, eyes burning with questions as they stared at Maverick, waiting for the news.

“Hangman’s in surgery,” Maverick started, noticing Rooster blanch out of the corner of his eye. “He is alive, and they are expecting promising results, but I’m not going to lie to you, he’s in rough…He’s in rough shape, so this is what I know.” Maverick’s throat caught, and he could feel his lungs tightening again.

“What I know is that his jet didn’t just catch fire, the plane itself bent in half on impact, trapping him inside. The canopy didn’t retract, but even if it had, he wouldn’t have been able to get out, because his legs were crushed under the controls. As it stands…they're operating now to try and save them.”

Rooster collapsed against Phoenix, who struggled to support the sudden weight, and Bob rushed to their side, taking Rooster’s arm and guiding him to a nearby chair, both of them gripping onto him tightly as grounding support.

Maverick continued, staring Rooster down to make sure the younger man was listening. “But he also has severe burns on his hands and face. The smoke was pumping burning chemicals into the cockpit, and the extended contact it had on his skin left the damage. His eyes might also be compromised, he kept his mask on, which definitely saved his lungs. The heat from being in there so long might also have caused some issues, but we'll have to wait to find out about that later. I...I expect he’ll be facing an honorable discharge for this.”

“Damn,” Payback whispered. Expressions of defeat, sympathy, or horror were shared by the group, and Fritz raised a hand, waiting to ask a question, but Maverick cut him off.

“He’ll be in surgery for a few more hours, and you all know the deal. No visitors, at least not yet.”

Rooster opened his mouth to protest, eyes shining in fear and anger, but Maverick cut him off. “Javy, I want you to stay here. I know you're listed as his emergency contact, the doctors know to talk to you, call me immediately if you get any updates. The surgeon’s name is Lieutenant Commander Javicia Monroe, she’ll keep you in the loop, or get someone else to do it. You have full permission to throw my name around if you get stonewalled. Lennox has already granted you some time off to stay with him.” Coyote nodded, and Pete turned to Phoenix.

“Trace, can you and Bob get over to Hangman’s barracks, pack everything.” Maverick dug into his pockets and pulled out his keys. “You can store it in my hangar temporarily, I’ll take care of it after that. You both have tomorrow off to do it as well.” He tossed the keys to Phoenix, who caught them one-handed. She nodded, her face neutrally blank as her professionalism kicked in at having something to do.

“The rest of you, there’s not much you can do, at least not right now,” Maverick said gently, watching as Fritz, Halo, Omaha, and Payback hung their head, nodding. “You're basically support right now, so you don't get time off. So, I'm just going to ask that you take over for Javy if he needs a break, check in every now and then, update the boys over at Oceana, and someone talk to Fanboy for me? I'd be grateful for that, and so will Jake. And if you need someone to talk to, call me alright? I know…” Maverick’s voice cracked, but he pretended to ignore it. “…I know this isn’t easy. I know you’re all pretty scared for Hangman right now. I know how you all must be feeling. But he’s in the best of hands, and you all have to get back to duty.”

“I’m not going fucking anywhere.” Rooster snarled, and everyone flinched. Maverick stared at him coolly, before turning back to everyone else. “Alright, dismissed. Javy, I suggest you grab yourself a cup of coffee and a phone charger. You'll be here a while.” The younger man nodded and walked off, and everyone else made an exit except for Rooster, who just sat there, hands clenched on the edge of his seat, knuckles white.

“Yes, you are. You’re coming with me,” Maverick said, and confusion dawned on Rooster’s face.

“Where are you going?” He asked, and Maverick knelt down, meeting Rooster’s eye level.

“I’m headed to Fresno airport. Jake’s sisters are on their way.”

Pete didn’t think it was possible for Bradley’s face to look more devastated, but it did.

As Bradley sat silently in the car on the way to the airport, Pete glanced at him worriedly. The young man was uncharacteristically still, practically frozen in a picture of fear and worry.

In the first twenty minutes of the drive, Pete silently hoped Rooster would say something, anything, but nothing was said. Finally, he’d had enough.

“Kiddo, can you tell me what’s going through your head right now?” Pete asked, and still, Bradley said nothing. He didn’t even look at Pete.

“Rooster…” Pete tried again. “Bradley, please, just talk to me.”

“And say what?” Rooster snapped.

“Something. Anything.” Pete said, gripping the steering wheel. “I know you must be scared out of your mind right now, but internalizing it isn’t going to help. Believe me, I know.”

“Internalizing is just how I cope, Mav. It’s fine. I’m just worried about…”

“Your boyfriend.” Maverick interrupted. “You’re worried about your partner, the person you probably care about most in the world right now, and that’s okay. This is the space to let out that worry, where no one is around to judge you or worry about you, or worse, court-martial you for having relations with a fellow soldier. It’s me, Bradley, so stop sitting there in silence and just say something.”

A beat passed as Bradley gaped at him, processing what Pete was saying before facing forwards in his seat, and his hand flew to his face as he let out a guttural sob.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Rooster swore, throwing his head back into the headrest, tears streaming down his face as sobs racked his body.

Maverick’s heart broke as he watched his godson break down, shattering just a bit more with every single sob that echoed around the car. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and just pulled over into the hard shoulder, bursting out of the car before racing around to the passenger's side, and pulling Bradley out of the vehicle into a hug.

Bradley just collapsed into his arms and cried, and Maverick cried with him, the two of them sprawled on the asphalt, Bradley tucked in his arms as the two of them just grieved together.

“It’ll be okay,” Maverick whispered, running fingers through Bradley’s hair. “It’ll be okay.”

“How can you say that?” Bradley cried, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. “He…he was trapped in there, Mav. I could see the flames, I could…they wouldn’t let anyone else near the tarmac. Only the relief crews and the wings were still on fire by the time they got the canopy off. I couldn’t see them pull him out, the smoke was so thick…” A sob interrupted and Maverick’s heart clenched.

“And then no one would tell me anything at the hospital. I tried, I begged them, but nothing. We’d only just talked about being each other’s next of kin, we were planning to change our forms, and then this happened before we could do anything! It’s not fair, it’s not fair that it was him, it’s not…it’s not fair. I can’t lose him Mav. I can’t…I can’t lose anyone else.”

“You won’t lose him. Hangman’s a tough son of a bitch, Bradley, if anyone can make it through this, he can. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he defeats the odds and ends up back in the air after all this,” Maverick tried to joke, but his mouth just tasted sour. “And we’re going to help him. The two of you are both going to come to stay with me and Ice, and we’ll make sure he has the best support. Hell, I’ll house his damn sisters, have three Seresin’s in the house if that’s what it takes to get him back on his feet, okay? You hear me?”

Maverick cupped Bradley’s face, gently lifting his chin to direct the younger man’s eyes to his. “Do you hear me?”

Rooster nodded, slipping his eyes shut, and he burrowed his fingers into Maverick’s shirt, tucking his head into the crook of Pete’s neck, and Pete just held him for a few moments, feeling the sobs jolting Bradley’s body slowly fade.

“C’mon kid, we need to get to the airport. You know how impatient Seresins can be.”

Bradley was dead asleep by the time they got to the airport, and Maverick didn’t have the heart to wake him, so he quietly parked, and sent a message to Bradley’s phone, effectively leaving the younger man a note if he woke up, and walked into the arrivals area of the Fresno airport, cross-checking the flight information that Captain Lennox had forwarded on to him when something caught his eye.

Two women marched through the terminal, each dragging a hard carry-on suitcase, moving with purpose, and while they looked nothing like each other, Maverick recognized them instantly. The twin looks of determination and stubbornness were unmistakable, these were the Seresin sisters.

Flagging them down, Pete quickly caught their attention, and looks of alarm crossed their faces as they recognized his uniform.

“Ladies,” Maverick greeted, quickly assessing the two women. “I’m Admiral Pete Mitchell, I work with your brother, I’m here to take you to the base.”

They both gasped, recognizing his name. “You’re Bradley’s father, aren’t you?” The shorter of the two women, with shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes, just like her brother, asked. She wore a white crop top, and an oversized burnt-orange cardigan over a pair of light wash blue jeans and a pair of ankle boots that complimented her jacket.

“Yes ma’am.” Maverick saw no reason to correct her but was surprised when she pulled him in for a hug.

“Jake’s mentioned you. My name’s Judy,” She introduced herself, and Pete picked up on the slight twang of a southern accent. “This is my sister, Jordan.” She gestured, stepping away, and Pete suddenly found himself being tackled by Jordan Seresin, who was much taller than him in a pair of black platform boots.

Unlike her sister, Jordan had dyed-dark brown hair, except for the front, which had two shockingly-teal sections that framed her face, accompanied by matching makeup that made her look exceptionally pale. She wore a black long-sleeved crop top and high-waisted black cargo pants that were tucked into her platforms, which gave her an extra four inches of height. Tattoos peeked out from the edges of her clothing, and what part of her skin that wasn’t covered in ink or fabric was adorned with jewelry, as silver piercings accented her nose, lips, ears, eyebrow, and mouth.

“Do you know anything about our brother,” Jordan asked, and it caught Pete off-guard that while the two sisters looked very different, they spoke exactly alike.

“I…yes. Last I heard, he was in surgery. They were operating on his legs, which were crushed in the crash.” Pete said, glancing between the two. Looks of steel hardened behind their eyes, and they stoically nodded, ready to hear more. “He also sustained burns on his hands and face. They think they can save his legs, but the doctors are worried about his vision.”

“I see,” Judy said, before pulling out her phone. “I should text Bradley, I was hoping to get word from him by now.”

“He’s in my car,” Pete said, drawing their attention. “He…uh, he’s not taking it well. They wouldn’t tell him anything at the base, since they can’t admit they’re seeing each other. Fraternization rules. And neither of them had changed their emergency contact forms yet.”

“I hate the goddamn military,” Jordan swore under her breath, before freezing, looking at his uniform. “Sorry.” She apologized, grimacing at the admittance.

“Don’t be. At times like this, I do too.” Pete assured her, giving her a small smile. “C’mon, it’s nearly an hour’s drive back to base, hopefully, there’s an update waiting for us when we get there.

As Pete escorted the two women to the car, Pete was pleased to see that Rooster was awake, leaning against the hood waiting for them.

“Bradley,” Judy greeted, pulling him into a hug. Pete couldn’t help but notice the height difference as he watched this 5’2”, maybe 5’3”, woman manhandle Bradley into an embrace.

“Hey Judy,” He said, his voice rough. “I’m so sorry, I meant to call you…”

“Don’t you apologize for a damn thing,” Judy cut him off. “You’re here, that matters. Now, you’re going to help me whip my idiot brother back into shape, so help me, and we’re going to do it so fast there will be no time for that dumbass to complain about it. You got that, Mr. Bradshaw?”

Bradley looked at her wide-eyed, and Jordan just rolled her eyes. “You better say yes, Bradley, because when she says stuff like that, it’s happening whether you’re willing or kicking and screaming.”

Maverick snorted, amused at the interaction, and at Bradley’s expression as he just turned back to Judy Seresin, looking her dead in the eyes as he let out a quiet “Yes, ma’am.”

Later, Pete remembered Carole Bradshaw handling Pete exactly the same back in the day.

Coyote called Pete halfway back to base, and Pete picked it up, immediately warning the younger man of the car’s occupants.

“Great, that means we aren’t going to play a game of telephone later,” Javy said, and Pete glanced in the rearview mirror to see Jordan and Judy clutching hands, waiting to hear the news.

“Alright, what’s the update?” Pete asked.

“They saved his legs. He’s going to need more surgeries on them…and external fixators on both of them for a while.”

Pete sharply gasped but knew that Javy wasn't done. “Okay, and?”

“And they’ve treated the burns on his hands. Looks like there will be minimal scarring, they weren’t severe enough to destroy the nerves. They’ll hurt, but they’ll heal, and he shouldn’t lose dexterity.” Coyote said, and sighs of relief echoed from Judy, Jordan, and Bradley.

“And?” Pete asked.

“The burns on his face are a different story. The burning kerosene definitely did some damage to his eyes,” Coyote admitted. “They aren’t sure yet, they’re bringing in an ophthalmologist to assess him, but his eyesight is definitely affected. Partial vision loss is likely.”

There it was.

The death sentence for any pilot.

Severe or even partial vision loss would almost ensure Hangman would never fly a fighter jet again, and depending on how bad it was, would almost certainly warrant a medical discharge.

“Captain Lennox also came back,” Coyote continued. “He said he’s sent you the report since they’ve already finished assessing the jet. They know what caused the crash.”

Maverick stiffened, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bradley tensing up too.

“Mav, they’re ruling it a total accident! An improper inspection was performed on the jet, and they found that the front landing gear was compromised. Likely a manufacturing or maintenance issue. He would have skidded out of control on impact, with no indication of a problem until he hit the tarmac. The whole thing just gave out, and the jet went nose-first into the ground. You know what happened next.”

“So it wasn’t his fault?” Bradley confirmed, speaking up.

“It wasn’t. He’s in the clear, if he’s discharged, it’ll be either a medical or honorable. There won’t be an inquiry. And they're grounding all the jets here until every one has been thoroughly inspected to make sure it doesn't happen again.”

Maverick let out a sigh of relief. “Okay…that’s great, thanks Javy. Could you let everyone else…”

“Yeah, Payback and Omaha are on it. Bob and Phoenix also called, they’ve just dropped Jake’s stuff at the hangar.”

“Okay, thanks Coyote. We’ll be back on base in twenty." After exchanging a few more words, Pete hung up the phone, before glancing back at the two women in the backseat.

“You two okay?” He asked quietly, and Judy hummed.

“Could be better, I suppose. But we’ve been worse off, hell, Jake’s been worse off, and come out the other side stronger than ever. Knowing he’s alive, that he’s in recovery, that they’re treating him well…it’s a relief.”

“He’ll hate it if he needs glasses,” Jordan said, breaking the tension.

“He won’t wear ‘em. Stubborn idiot would rather walk around blind as a bat.” Judy argued, and Pete smiled.

“Not if I have something to say about it. He looks hot in glasses.” Rooster mumbled, and Pete tried not to react, extremely relieved at the good nature of the comment.

“Aviators are not glasses,” Judy argued, and Rooster rolled his eyes.

“They could make him prescription aviators, he’d never take them off.”

“Do not give him ideas, Mr. Bradshaw,” Judy poked Rooster in the shoulder, and Bradley flinched, laughing.

“You know him, he’ll get that idea himself eventually."

“I personally like the idea,” Pete said, and Rooster grinned at him.

“That's just because you have some, after getting old, Mav.” He twisted back, staring at Judy with a smirk. She just rolled her eyes back at Bradley, and Jordan scoffed. Mav let the comment slide.

After all, it wasn't like the kid was wrong.

It took four days for Hangman to wake up, after eleven surgeries to handle his various injuries, and it was a pure coincidence that it was just Maverick in the room when he woke up.

Rooster had finally gone home for a few hours, at the insistence of Pete and both Seresin sisters, who accompanied him. They had only slept at the hospital, not leaving once since they arrived in California, and someone needed to show them where they could stay long-term. Pete volunteered to stay with Hangman, refusing to leave him alone, which was the only reason Bradley agreed to walk out the door.

So alone Maverick sat, reading through various reports that Davies had left for him when the rustling of bedsheets prompted him to look up.

Jake was fidgeting on the bed, trying to move his arms up towards his face.

“Jake, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Pete said, dumping the reports on the floor as he inched closer to the injured pilot. A look of confusion crossed Jake’s face, what parts Pete could see anyways, as bandages still covered his eyes, the bridge of his nose, and his temples.

He was probably confused, coming out of sedation was not an easy ride. 

“It’s Maverick, Seresin. You’re in a hospital, try not to move your face too much, you were injured pretty badly.”

“…av?” Jake rasped, feeling out towards Pete’s general direction, and Pete guided a bandage-wrapped hand into his own.

“Yeah, I’m here. I just sent Rooster home. How are you feeling?”

“…why can’t I see?” Jake asked, trying to reach up again, but Maverick gently restrained his wrists.

“You have some burns on your face, Jake. There are bandages across your eyes while they heal.”

“And my hands? I can feel stuff on my hands.” Jake said, and Pete brushed the pad of his thumb over the wrapping.

“Yeah, burns on your hands too.”

“Are…are they bad?” Jake asked, his voice trembling.

Pete didn’t know what to say, knowing that this was going to be a delicate topic. “They’ll heal, but there will likely be some scarring.”

Hangman’s breath hitched, and his heart rate audibly changed on the monitor that he was hooked up to. “Fuck.” The blond swore, trying to reach up for the bandages again.

“No, Jake, you can’t do that. They need to be there.” Pete restrained Hangman’s wrists again, bringing them back down to rest on Jake’s stomach.

“I need to see them Mav,” Jake insisted, and Pete winced at the word see, before realizing that Jake probably felt the abrupt movement.

“Mav?” Jake gasped and froze in the bed. “I can still see, right? Right?”

“It…it might be a bit blurry at first, but yeah, you should still be able to see,” Maverick said, biting his tongue, trying not to overwhelm the younger man.

“Blurry…Mav, blurry is a fucking problem. I'm a goddamn pilot, remember?” Hangman tried to thrash on the bed, and the external fixator on his left thigh bumped into the side of the bed, causing him to gasp in pain.

“…What…what is that?” Hangman’s hands started wandering down, blindly looking for whatever had caused the painful sensation that reverberated up his body.

“It’s an external fixator,” Maverick said hesitantly, guiding one of Hangman’s hands to the metal structure bolted to his thigh. “They…they had to put six pins in each of your legs, to fix the severe breaks you sustained in your thighs.”

Horror adorned Hangman’s face, and Pete could see his hands start to shake. “I have…pins? Fuck, I can’t…how long are they going to be there, Mav?”

Maverick took a breath, before taking hold of one of Hangman’s hands again. “Four months, minimum.”

The guttural sound that came out of Jake’s mouth was haunting.

“Four months?” He whispered, his tone shaky.

“Jake, listen to me. I know this is not going to be easy for you,” Pete said, reaching up to place a hand in Jake’s hair. “I know you’re scared, terrified even of what’s ahead of you, but you are going to get past it, okay? We’re all going to make sure of it. Rooster, Ice and myself, your sisters, your friends, we are all going to be here for you, to help.”

“Help?” Hangman snarled, flinching away from Pete, crying out in pain as he jostled his legs. “I don’t want help, I don’t need it! I’ll get through this myself!” He said, batting away Pete’s hands as they tried to reach for him.

Pete flinched, backing away from Hangman, who resembled a cornered animal lashing out, and Pete worried for a moment if he kept moving, he would accidentally hurt himself. He started moving, with the intent to alert a nurse before something in Hangman’s face made him pause.

Resignation.

Devastation.

Disappointment.

Acceptance.

What was going through his head? Pete thought before his eyes widened in realization.

The footsteps. Jake thought he was actually leaving.

“You probably could,” Pete said, making Hangman pause. “God knows if I were you, I wouldn’t want anybody around.” He stepped closer to the bed and watched carefully as Hangman turned his head, listening for movement.

“Hell, I’ve been in a similar situation, remember?” Pete reminded, and Jake’s lips thinned, likely recalling the post-mission injury that Pete was referring to.

“At first, I didn’t want people seeing me like that. I definitely didn’t want Bradley seeing me like that or Ice. Their opinions of me mattered way too much, whether that was vanity, ego, or pride, I don’t know,” Pete scoffed, stepping closer. “But that didn’t change the fact I needed them. I needed you, and the other pilots who came by to see me, and support me, because I needed all the help I could get. Rejecting it would have left me broken, alone, and I don't want the same thing to happen to you.”

Hangman was within total reach now, but Pete didn’t touch him just yet.

“I know you’d rather be alone because you’ve had to do a lot on your own before. You’ve processed pain alone, you think you can handle this alone because people have let you down. They taught you self-reliance was the key, so when it comes down to it, you save your own skin. But I promise you, Jake Seresin, you are not going to be let down by us. We can help you through this, we WANT to help you through this because you’re family. We’re not going any damn where, no matter what happens, no matter how much you want to push us away, whether you’re kicking and screaming or not, to paraphrase your sister there.”

Jake swallowed roughly, and he slowly reached his hand out again, letting it hang in the air waiting, and Maverick responded, cupping his hand underneath, and interlacing their fingers. “I …I can’t promise I’ll like it, but okay, Mav. I trust you. And I’ll take your damn help.”

Jake’s voice wavered, and Pete smiled softly.

“You’ll probably hate it. You’re getting the same physical therapist I did,” Maverick teased. “That guy needs to be held on trial for torture, as far as I’m concerned. The only problem is, he’s the best, and he gets results.”

Hangman snorted. “Rooster mentioned you complaining about him. I’m sure you’ll hear about my complaints in turn.”

“Straight from the horse’s mouth this time. You and Bradley are going to stay with me for a while, while you get better, so you can complain to me, and I’ll give you a sympathetic ear.”

“Will you give me a sympathetic ear when I end up getting kicked out of the Navy, too?” Jake asked, bitterness bleeding from his mouth.

“If that’s what happens, yeah. But the crash wasn’t your fault, Hangman. You’re not going on trial for anything, so the only thing you need to focus on right now is getting better.”

“Be realistic, Mav,” Hangman said, yanking his hand away. “I’m not getting back in a cockpit again.”

“Maybe not for the Navy,” Maverick conceded. “But you’re not blind, Jake. You have options, you can still fly. And worst comes to worst, if you get discharged, I can finally give you a proper shovel talk about dating my kid because I’m not your commanding officer anymore.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open, and Pete nearly laughed as the young man actually flushed.

“I…that’s your silver lining?” Jake asked in fake outrage, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

“You’ve been dating as long as I’ve been married, kid. I’d like to do it sometime,” Pete joked, and Hangman took on a thoughtful expression.

“I…we could be open about the relationship, if I weren’t in the military anymore,” Hangman whispered. “Realistically, I knew we couldn’t move forward as long as the two of us were still…y’know, but…I could hold his hand in public. I could take him on an actual date without worrying about getting caught…I could propose?”

That last bit caught Maverick off-guard, but he wasn’t opposed to the idea. In fact, he loved that idea.

“As I said, the only thing you need to think about right now is getting better, Jake. But if you were to think about that last bit you just said, a little more…” Pete trailed off, and Hangman’s breath hitched.

Pete smiled. “Well, you don’t need it, but you’d have my blessing. So whatever you decide, I’ll support it, okay? And I'll make sure everyone else is on-board too.”

Hangman gave him a small smile. “Okay, Mav.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go call Rooster, before he makes his way back here to find you awake and yell at me for not calling him,” Maverick said, and Jake nodded.

“Great. And Mav?” Jake called out, stopping Pete in his tracks, phone in hand.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Jake said earnestly. “You’re right. I don’t know how I’d do this alone. And it means a lot that you’re going to be here.”

“Always,” Pete promised, and Jake gave him a soft look, quirking his mouth.

“Yeah, I think we’re all starting to get that. Now go call Roo, before he gets here and yells at us both.”

Maverick laughed and left the room, feeling lighter than he had for the first time since he saw a burning plane on a tv. And something inside him just whispered the promise that everything really would be okay in the end.

Chapter Text

Family Day was highly anticipated on the Lemoore NAS base by pretty much everyone, regardless of rank, so it was common to see many smiling faces as people greeted their parents, spouses, siblings, and children as people milled onto the base.

But there was one face that caught Maverick’s eye as he greeted the multiple members of families that had been introduced to him one by one of the special detachment aviators, and it definitely was not smiling. Standing alone on the tarmac, Reuben Fitch stood stock still, eyes fixed on the front entrance gate, his face expressionless.

Rooster noticed Maverick’s distraction, and followed his gaze while leaning casually on the handles of Jake’s hospital wheelchair, which he had been given specifically so he could visit the base despite not having medical clearance to walk. Bradley also frowned, noticing Payback, finding the behavior as uncharacteristic of him as Pete.

“Huh,” Rooster muttered, catching Pete’s attention.

“What?” Pete asked, instincts begging him to go talk to Reuben.

“Nothing, I just…I thought he mentioned that his parents and siblings were coming today,” Rooster muttered, and Maverick glanced back at Payback.

“I’m just gonna…” Maverick pointed a thumb in the other aviator’s direction, and Rooster nodded, capturing the conversation so that Maverick could make his escape.

Approaching Fitch, Pete couldn’t help but notice the younger man tightly gripping his phone, and the overall tense body language that didn’t just come from being in the military.

No, something was wrong.

“Payback, you alright?” Pete called out, trying to snag his attention, but Pete remained ignored.

“Payback?” Pete tried again. Reuben didn’t even seem to register that he was there.

“Reuben?” Pete was now right next to him, and the pilot jumped, finally processing that Pete was present.

“Son of a…Mav, shit, sorry. You startled me.” Reuben apologized, rubbing the back of his head.

“My fault,” Maverick said easily, slowly assessing the younger man. “Are you okay, you looked worried just now?”

“Yeah, I uh…my family is coming in, and my sister-in-law texted to say they were going to be late because my mom was sick this morning. And when I asked her for more details, she didn’t answer. Now no one’s answering me.” Reuben admitted, shoulders sinking in disappointment. "I'm a little worried they're gonna ditch."

Maverick opened his mouth to comfort him when a chain of cars pulled into the gate area, and Payback lightened up, recognizing the car in front.

“That’s them!” He cheered, waiting for them to park, before cocking his head at Maverick. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you…” He trailed off, stopping in his tracks as people emerged from the cars, waving and cheering as they approached, including a woman who was being helped out by an older man.

She wore a loose, loudly patterned dress that dwarfed her thin frame, and she leaned heavily on a bright, reflective cane, despite only appearing to be in her mid-50s. Her head was wrapped tightly into a brightly-colored head wrap, but she wore no jewelry, and her shoes were simple slip-ons that color-matched with the pattern on the dress. Despite the bright garments, it was clear from across the lot she was ill, due to the tank of oxygen that the man beside her carried, connected by a thin tube to a nasal cannula. Her eyes were sunken, and her face was very thin, barely hidden by the rich makeup she was wearing to conceal her gallant features.

This woman wasn’t just sick, she was terminally ill.

Payback stood stock still, staring at her in shock, and Pete immediately put two and two together. This was Payback’s mother, and he was very startled by her appearance. If Pete had to guess, he'd even say that Payback hadn't even known about her condition, whatever it was. The rest of the family, comprised of several couples, a few teenagers, and a handful of young children all fell into a group behind her as she slowly approached Reuben, who still did not move.

Pete swallowed, knowing this was going to be a rough situation, and he had to get Payback out of his head. Gently, Pete pushed Payback’s shoulder. “I’d love to meet them.” He said, before cocking his head in their direction. Payback locked eyes with Pete, expressive in their desire for reassurance and support.

Pete stared back, mentally communicating that the younger man had it, and Reuben nodded, understanding the silent exchange, before briskly approaching the woman to meet her halfway, and Pete was hot on his heels.

“Hi baby,” The woman rasped, and reached her hand out for Payback to take, and he reciprocated the action.

“Hi Mama.” Reuben looked her up and down, following the cannula from her face to the tank. “Hi, Dad.” He said, sparing a glance at the man.

“Ruby.” The man smiled warmly, and Reuben looked back at his mother, who was trying to smile without grimacing.

“You got somethin’ to tell me, mama?” Reuben asked, and her expression faltered.

“I…” Her eyes flickered to Pete, and then back to her son. “Later, baby. Now, why don’t you introduce your friend?”

“That’s not his friend mama,” One of the men from the group spoke up, and Pete glanced at him, seeing a fraternal resemblance to Reuben. Pete guessed that this man was his brother. “See the four stars on his uniform? That’s an Admiral, he’s a Navy bigwig.”

“You must be one of my son’s commanding officers, then,” Reuben’s father held out his hand, and Pete shook it.

“Yes sir,” Pete said, and Reuben snorted, knowing how much Pete hated using the honorific. He only deigned to use it on people he actually respected...or his husband, but no one needed to know that outside of Pete's marriage.

“Daddy, Mama, this is Admiral Pete Mitchell, Commander of the Pacific Fleet. I was serving directly under him for a little while, and I wanted to introduce him to y’all.”

“Mitchell, the one that was in the papers last year?” One of the younger women from the group asked, and Pete nodded, hoping he wasn’t flushing at the mention of the very public discussion the news media had had about his promotion and subsequent marriage.”

“Yep, that’s him.” Reuben nodded. “Mav, these are my parents, George and Donna,” Reuben said, gesturing to the couple in front. “Those folks over there are my siblings, Deshaun and Jamal, with their wives Kimmy and Jess, and my sisters Angie and Aisha, with their husbands, Franco and Jesus. The teenagers are Miles, Duke, and Regina, they’re technically my cousins, but they’re basically my siblings. And then the small ones,” Whines and protests at the descriptor interrupted him, which made Payback grin, but he didn’t stop. “…the small ones are my nieces and nephew, Alfie, Viola, and Brionna, which are Deshaun’s kids, and Dodie and Princess, Jamal’s children. And that small little bundle in Aisha’s arms must be little Rhiannon.” Reuben cooed, spotting the baby his sister was cuddling.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Pete said politely, before realizing one of the nieces was tugging on his pants.

“Viola, right?” Pete asked, kneeling to meet her eyes. She nodded and bit her lip shyly.

“Do you fly in a plane too like Uncle Ruby?” She asked, and Pete smiled.

“I do. Have you ever been in a plane?” Pete asked, and she shook her head.

“No. But I’ve seen Uncle Ruby’s plane before.” She said earnestly. “And the ones that fly over our house.”

“They’re cool, aren’t they?” Pete asked and she nodded.

“So, Admiral Mitchell, I understand you are responsible for my son doing about a thousand pushups in a three-week period?” George Fitch asked, catching Pete’s attention, and he laughed.

“Technically,” Pete said, standing up. “Your son is responsible for the pushups. He made the bet after all.”

“Eh, come on.” Reuben protested. “How was I supposed to know you’d fly like that?”

“You mean, how were you supposed to know that your actions would have consequences?” Pete asked with a glint in his eye, and Donna laughed.

“He’s got you there, baby. Now, let’s go inside. I don’t want to be out in this sun that much longer.”

“You were the one with the big ego, Mav.” Payback said, and Pete just grinned, before offering his hand to little Viola, who was still staring up at him. She took it, wrapping her little fingers around his ring finger.

“With the skills to match the ego. You made the deal, you came up with the punishment, and you lost the round. And every round after.” Pete added, making Payback roll his eyes. George laughed and clapped his son on the back.

“He needed the pushups anyways,” Jamal called out, hoisting up one of his children. “His arms were getting a little skinny from operating a joystick all day.”

“Hey, don’t do me like that,” Payback warned, pointing a finger at his brother. “It’s not a joystick, it’s a whole ass jet. And you ain’t the one to talk, about operating no joystick, I’ve seen the hours you put in on that game console you got.”

“Oh, is he as bad as Rooster?” Pete asked, and Payback nodded.

“Oh yeah. At least Roo goes to bed sometimes. One time I came back, and he played that game through the night.”

“Who is Rooster?” One of the wives asked, Jess if Pete remembered correctly.

“Rooster’s a friend of mine and Mav’s godson.”

“Mav?” One of the teenagers frowned, Miles, Pete hoped. There really were a lot of people to keep straight.

“Maverick, that’s his callsign. Everyone usually calls him that, instead of his name or rank.” Payback explained. “Like how they call me Payback.”

“At least his name is cool. You got yours because you kept losing bets.” Aisha teased, and Maverick laughed.

“Why am I not surprised?” Pete chuckled, glancing at Reuben who was grumbling and side-eyeing his sister. “Remind me to play poker with you, since you clearly have a history of losing bets.”

“I’m great at poker,” Payback insisted, and protests emerged from all of his siblings.

“Shut all y’alls faces! I’ve won a few games!”

“Two! Two games Ruby. And the first one was when Daddy taught you to play and LET you win.”

Pete snorted and looked over at the younger pilot, who was now outright scowling. “I’m definitely playing you. I’ve got a few ideas on what I’m even willing to bet, too.” Pete teased.

“Please don’t, and I’ll babysit Rooster on your anniversary.” Payback begged.

“Hangman’s got Rooster. You get Fritz.” Pete said, and Payback paled.

“Oh fuck me.” He whispered, before startling in alarm as his mother smacked his arm with her cane.

“Language around the babies.” She hissed, and Payback winced, rubbing the now-sore spot on his arm.

“Brats, if you hear me say bad words, no you didn’t. You got them from your mamas after your dads forget to do their chores at home, you got that?”

Rounds of affirmatives rose from the children, but all the adults, bar Maverick, rolled their eyes and in unison yelled “Shut up Ruby!”

It took every ounce of willpower Pete had not to laugh for the rest of the journey inside.

Later that night, Pete was staying in his hangar, working on the P-51, detailing the modified controls in the back seat, when a knock echoed throughout the building. Looking up, Pete realized it was Payback standing by the sliding door, and he quickly climbed out of the plane, ready to greet him.

“Hey,” Pete said, wiping his hands on a towel before shoving it in his back pocket.

“Hey Mav,” Payback said, with a dejected tone.

Pete immediately knew what this was about.

“How’s your mom doing?” He asked gently, and Payback’s head whipped up, telling Maverick that he was right on the money.

“She…she’s dying Mav.” Payback’s voice cracked, and Maverick’s heart broke for the young man.

“Do you mind me asking what…” Pete asked gently, trailing off when Payback collapsed in one of the chairs. Pete sat down on the other, facing him with an attentive look.

“She has breast cancer. She…they call it TNBC, and it’s aggressive. She was diagnosed a few months ago, but she’s refusing surgery, even though the chemo they’ve got her doing isn’t helping.”

“Why is she refusing surgery?” Maverick asked.

Payback shook his head. “She don’t trust doctors all that much. I think too many of them have let her down in the past, and she’s not interested in letting them cut her up, her words.”

Maverick nodded. “And the chemotherapy isn’t working?”

“She says it makes her feel worse. And according to her scans, it’s spreading anyways, so it doesn’t even matter. That’s why she has the O2 tank, one of the masses is compressing her lungs.”

Maverick closed his eyes, taking a breath, knowing how the diagnosis sounded. When Ice had gotten diagnosed with cancer years ago, it had scared the shit out of Maverick. He’d nearly gone AWOL to be with him after finding out the news, but Ice promised him he would get better, which was the only thing that made Pete stay.

And better he did, and Pete was more than thankful for that miracle. But cancer was a total bitch, and it wasn’t going to spare Donna Fitch.

It hadn’t spared Carole Bradshaw.

“How long does she have?” Pete asked, and Reuben let out a sob.

“A year, maximum.” Payback mumbled, rubbing his face. “They’ve given her a year. Angie says that she might have a bit longer if she sticks with the chemo, but my mama knows when to pick her battles, and I could see it in her eyes today. She ain’t picking this one, and no one blames her.”

Tears slipped down Reuben’s face, and Maverick stood up, pulling him into a hug. “And I can’t…I can’t help but feel guilty.”

“Why do you feel guilty?” Pete asked, brushing the tears off Reuben’s face with the pads of his thumbs.

“All my other siblings are with her. Near her. They can visit whenever they want, drive her to treatments, and help her on her bad days. But me, she has to come to me, because I can’t go to her. And coming today was hard, because they had to fly here, and it was just a lot for her. That’s why she was sick this morning.” Reuben wiped his nose with his sleeve, and Maverick mentally added tissues as an item to stock here for the future. Really it was something he should have considered earlier.

“And I also feel guilty for being angry,” Reuben admitted. “They’ve…fuck, they already planned the funeral, everything except for the day, and I didn’t even know she was sick,” Reuben growled and dropped his head into his hands. “I wasn’t there to see it, and they don’t live close, so no one told me. She made them not tell me, because she wanted to look me in the eyes and do it on her own terms. And I get that was her choice and all, but I’m mad at her, Mav.” Reuben said, looking back up, eyes shimmering. Maverick just waited, staring back, waiting for the young man to keep talking.

“I’m mad, because the time I have left with her is limited now, and she kept it from me. I talk to her on the phone at least once a week, and there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t have contact with someone in my family.” Reuben’s voice shook. “I’m scared of when it became normal for them to keep that a secret for me, when it became easier, and I’m fucking pissed that everyone else got the time to process this with her, and I don’t because she made the decision for me.”

Maverick flinched at how raw Reuben’s tone was, but the younger man either didn’t notice it or didn’t say anything.

“There’s only so much I can do now, and I can’t help but be jealous that they get more time to be ready for goodbye. And at the same time, I shouldn’t have a right to be mad, because I’m not the one dying before my newest grandchild can make a memory with me. She’s the one in pain, she’s sick, and she has to deal with it, not me! I don’t want to be mad at her, because I love her, and she’s dying and there’s nothing I can do about it. I…I don’t know how to be ready for this, Mav.” He sobbed, and Pete pulled him into a hug, letting Reuben cry into his shoulder.

“And I also feel guilty for grieving already, for the moments I’ll never have with her. I’m not going to see her watching as I get married, not going to introduce her to another grandbaby, not going to stuff myself silly with her at Christmas while my kids open presents…she’s going to miss so much of me, and I’m going to miss so much of her.” He said brokenly.

Maverick cupped a hand around the back of Reuben’s neck. “That’s a lot to process, huh?”

Reuben frowned as if to say ‘Really, that’s the best you got?’ and Maverick sat back, sitting on the floor in front of his chair.

“You’re allowed to be mad,” Maverick said, and Reuben opened his mouth to object, but Maverick held up a hand to stop him. “Let me finish. You’re allowed to be mad. You’re allowed to grieve, you’re allowed to be sad, and scared, and whatever else you’re feeling right now because you have the right to react. And you’re doing it right, because you’ve recognized that you needed to have this reaction privately so you weren’t putting these feelings on your family, giving yourself the time to process and contextualize them.”

Reuben raised an eyebrow. “You got a shrink degree no one knows about?”

Maverick rolled his eyes at the snark. “No, just been forced to see enough of them to pick up on a few things. Do you know why we get angry?”

Payback blinked, before shaking his head. “Not really.”

“Anger is an emotion triggered out of a desire for intense expression, usually as a reaction to situations that are scary or threatening. At its core, it’s designed to be a protective instinct, but it’s so intense that it can become more. The intensity doesn’t invalidate the need for protection though, and I think that’s where your anger at this situation is coming from.” Maverick explained. “You feel betrayed, in a lot of ways, because you were deliberately left out of the loop on this situation. You recognize that the exclusion was not done out of malintent, but it still hurt you. You’re also mad because cancer is an unfair adversary. You’re a soldier at heart, you have a desire to protect and defend, and in this case, you can’t do either. You can’t fight this fight for her. And I suspect the guilt comes less from not being there for her, and more so feeling torn between your family and your duty, which is a hard thing to process for anyone, let alone someone who has the added stress of a sick family member on top of that.”

Payback swallowed but stayed silent, watching Maverick carefully.

“So it’s okay to feel all of that. You’re not doing anything wrong by feeling the way you do.” Maverick patted Reuben’s knee. “But now you need to figure out what to do next, and that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” He asked, and Payback let out a huge breath he didn’t know that he’d been holding.

“Yeah,” Reuben admitted.

“So here’s my suggestion. Cry tonight.” Maverick instructed, and Payback blinked in confusion. “Allow yourself to feel everything that’s coming at you right now, because you need to process it, and then when you’ve done that, examine what you’d like to handle, and what you can let go of. I would say let go of the guilt, at least a little bit. Your mom would never begrudge you for being here, would she? No matter how she was feeling?”

Payback nodded, drooping a little. “…No.”

“And the anger, well…some of it can wait. You have a right to be angry like I said, but I think that’s something you discuss privately with your family when it’s not so intense. Ask for their perspectives and reasoning, and why they agreed to participate and communicate that it does bother you and makes you feel even more distant from them than you are, physically and emotionally. I think they’ll understand that, and I doubt it would happen again.” Maverick said, and Payback closed his eyes, nodding.

“And while you say there is nothing you can do now for her, that’s not true,” Pete added, and one of Reuben’s eyes cracked open.

“She came here, all this way to see you. Today’s Friday, you have the weekend with them, I assume?” Reuben nodded, and Pete gave him a small smile.

“So give her what she came here for. Time to be with you. And take the time to be with her. Do you have some leave left?”

“Yeah, I got 55 days, I carried some over from last year,” Reuben muttered.

“And you’ll have more by the time your mom eventually passes away.” Maverick reasoned. “So don’t miss the moments you have left. Take the holidays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays, or whatever else is important for you to celebrate with her, and make memories that you can treasure. If it’s a drop-of-the-hat emergency, I’ve got a plane right there that can be fueled up and ready to go, and you know where the keys are. No questions asked, okay?” Maverick emphasized and Reuben nodded.

“And if you need to talk about it some more, you know right where to find me. You have my number, you can call me anytime,” Maverick said, before considering something. “Except on my anniversary. I’m not dealing with anything on my anniversary except my husband, and I WILL keep my phone on silent.”

Payback snorted, but Maverick wasn’t done. “And if you need someone to talk to, particularly about dealing with anger, talk to Rooster. He lost his mom to cancer, he knows a bit about what you’re going through, and I don’t think he’d ever deny you the conversation if you need it.” Maverick said, and Payback dropped his head, before nodding into his chest.

“Okay, thanks, Mav. For listening, for the advice, and everything.” Payback coughed, trying to compose himself, but Maverick held up his index finger.

“You’re welcome, but what did I say about tonight?” Maverick reminded, and Reuben bit his lip.

“Cry tonight,” Reuben said, and Pete nodded.

“You planning on doing that?” Pete asked, and the younger man nodded.

“Yeah. Is it okay if I do that here? The house I have on base is kinda full at the moment.” Payback asked, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Of course. I’ll go find some tissues.” Maverick said, patting the young man on the shoulder before having a thought.

“And after, how do you feel about hot chocolate? My aide keeps giving me these little packets in a subtle attempt to get me to have an alternative to drinking so much coffee and damn it, it’s working.” Pete said, finally getting Payback to laugh.

“Hot chocolate sounds great. I’d love some.” The younger man said, before allowing himself to break down in tears, sobbing loudly as Pete left him to it, giving him the privacy he needed.

Both of them knew Pete would come back in a little while to help out Reuben back together anyways.

Chapter Text

If Pete hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have noticed.

That was the thought that kept running through his head as Coyote and Omaha hauled the ground crew tech out of the Hard Deck, while Penny dragged Phoenix to the bathroom, while the rest of the bar stared at Pete, who was still seething in the middle of the floor, the beer glass still in his hand.

The beer glass with a dissolving pill sunk at the bottom.

It had meant to be a fun night. A quasi-reunion with all of the members of the special detachment, celebrating the second anniversary of the mission that had brought them together (give or take several months after said anniversary because coordinating schedules with active service members was a pain in the ass). Not everyone was present, of course. Fanboy was still in space, and Harvard and Yale hadn’t made the trip out to California from Oceana. But everyone else was present and accounted for, including Hangman, who was still confined to a wheelchair but milking the free rides from the rest of the crew.

Out of tradition, they’d gathered at the Hard Deck for a night of celebration, all of them agreeing to sleep over at Pete and Tom’s house for the night, so with no rush or curfew, everyone had been getting into the drinks, sharing stories and laughter over a game or two of pool.

It was Phoenix’s turn to get the drinks, and since it was a busy night, everyone had expected it to take a minute or two. But Pete watched her anyways, an odd feeling telling him to look.

And he couldn’t have been more glad that he did.

Because if Pete hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have noticed the guy sidle up to her, and slap some money on the bar with the offer to buy her a drink. He wouldn’t have noticed her shut him down. And he wouldn’t have noticed his expression as he slipped a pill into the first glass of beer that Penny set in front of Phoenix just as Penny turned her back.

Pete had been out of his bar stool in a second, practically vaulting over towards the bar top, a furious expression on his face as he shouted “Hey,” catching the attention of everyone in proximity. After all, when a four-star Admiral yells like that, the whole damn room listens, whether in uniform or out of it.

The guy had blanched, and immediately backed up, with the intent of dashing out the door, but Pete pointed at the glass, ordering Phoenix to leave it, and quickly caught up with the man in question, grabbing him by the collar.

“What was that?” Pete thundered, dragging the man closer to him.

The guy squirmed, and Pete barely had time to notice his tags tucked under his shirt. Andrews. Good. This jackass now had a name that Pete could drag under the bus.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Pete snarled. “I saw that. What did you put in that beer?”

Nervous whispers scattered around the room as people realized what was going on. Penny, being the ever-attentive bartender that she was, immediately snatched up the glass in question, inspecting it closely before an expression of fury crossed her face.

“Absolutely not.” She snarled, hopping over the bar in a surprising display of agility. She looked ready to throw Andrews out herself, before freezing and turning back to Phoenix. “Did you drink any of that?”

“No ma’am.” Phoenix said, eyes wide and face pale. Penny’s expression softened, and she quickly weighed a decision. Picking up the glass, she handed it to Pete, who could still see the pill dissolving at the bottom. With one hand, he held the contaminated beverage, and with the other, still fisted Andrews’s shirt in a hold so tight the other man couldn’t get free no matter how much he resisted.

“C’mon, Trace, you’re with me. Service is on hold for everyone else.” Penny called out, dragging Natasha towards the bathrooms. Pete turned to make eye contact with the rest of the detachment crew, all of which had rallied, and slowly approached their pissed-off commanding officer.

“Get him out of here.” Pete said, looking back at Andrews, who honestly looked ready to piss himself. “I want him in the sand in the next five seconds, and as for you,” Pete tightened his grip on the shirt even more, jostling Andrews, who was as pale as a sheet. “You can bet your ass your career, after that, is toast. I’ll damn well make sure of it. And if you ever ever do that to another person again, you better pray I don’t hear about it, because I’ll tie you to the landing gear of my jet and drag you down the damn runway. Do you understand me?” Pete’s voice was cold, dropping in pitch as his eyes narrowed, making sure that his threat was as effective as possible, to which Andrews could only shake in fear.

Satisfied, but still furious, Pete cocked his head, giving the signal, and Coyote and Omaha immediately crowded the two, yanking Andrews out of Pete’s grasp, and off the ground, practically carrying him out of the Hard Deck.

Pete took a brief moment to regain control of his breathing, before raising the glass to stare as the small pill that had caused so much fuss finally disappeared, before turning back to the bar, and tipped the beer down the drain under the ice dispenser. Onlookers chose that moment to go back to their own business, and slowly conversation resumed. But the mood was ruined for the group of aviators, and one by one, they all finished up their drinks and filed out, ready to turn in for the night. Rooster looked over at the bathrooms as he wrapped up for the night, wondering if he should talk to Natasha, but Pete stopped him.

“I’ve got her. You get Jake home. And maybe put a movie on or something? I feel like we’ll need to wind down after that.” Pete suggested, and Bradley nodded, before heading over to his boyfriend, who was sitting patiently waiting by the door.

Heading towards the bathrooms, Pete quietly knocked on the door, which cracked open a bit to reveal Penny who had an exhausted expression on her face.

“How’s she doing?” Pete asked, but the door only opened wider, revealing Phoenix whose face was carefully schooled into a neutral expression.

“She is fine, thanks.” Natasha snapped, leaving the bathroom, only to frown upon realizing everyone else was gone.

“Where did they…”

“Everyone left after they threw out that jackass. I don’t think anyone was really in the mood for drinking anymore.” Pete said, and Natasha’s shoulders dropped, the only indication of her internalized disappointment.

“C’mon Trace, I’m driving you home,” Pete said, and she began to protest before tapping her pocket, expression twisting into a sour look.

“Goddamnit, Roo.” She whispered, and Pete immediately realized that Rooster had volunteered to be the designated driver, and had taken her keys. In fact, he’d probably already taken her car.

Which meant Pete was her only way home.

“Okay, Pops, let’s go.” She said, marching past him, and out of the bar, ignoring glances that were spared her way.

Pete made to go after her, but a light brush of Penny’s hand stopped him. He turned to her, with a questioning look on his face, and she let out a sigh.

“Don’t force her to talk if she doesn’t want to, Pete. I know your instinct is to want to fix this, but let her deal with it on her own time. Okay?” Penny asked and Pete nodded.

“Okay.” He said, resignedly.

“What happened to the glass?” Penny asked, scanning the bar.

“Tipped it out, it’s sitting upside down on the ice dispenser,” Pete mumbled, and Penny pulled back, satisfied.

“Okay. And Pete…thanks for keeping an eye out.” Penny said, giving him a nod. Pete just nodded back, and turned around, walking out the door to see Phoenix leaning against the passenger door of his Jeep, drumming her fingers impatiently.

“One day you’re gonna have to explain to me how someone who can fly as fast as you do, is as slow as you are.” She snarked, and Pete snorted.

“I didn’t think I would have to. The plane does all the work when I fly. On the ground, it’s just me.” Pete said, forcing the good-natured tone in his voice. He climbed into the car, unlocking the doors with the fob, allowing her to do the same.

As she buckled her seat belt, Natasha allowed herself to sink against the door of the car, eyes glazing over as she stared into the distance, not saying another word as Pete began driving home. The silence in the car was uncomfortable, and it took nearly all of his willpower not to keep glancing at her with concerned looks.

No words were exchanged for the entire drive, and Pete was happy to see all of the cars from the rest of the detachment collected on the large driveway outside of the house, telling him everyone else had gotten home safely. Pulling up on the drive himself, Pete finally put the car in park, but Natasha didn’t move.

So Pete stayed put.

A moment or two passed before she let out a sigh. “I’m mad that I didn’t catch it. You’d think after this long of being a woman legally allowed to drink, I’d know to keep an eye on this stuff by now. But I didn’t catch it.” She said, and Pete swallowed, a mixture of emotions tumbling inside him.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Pete rasped, and she scoffed.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” She said bitterly. “But it’s a fact of life. That’s not even the first time that shit has happened to me. ‘S probably a good thing you did catch it, and not me. The last time, I nearly beat the guy into an emergency room.”

“I wanted to. As is, I can tank his career first thing in the morning, and be satisfied with making sure his life burns, but he deserves to be hit for that, at least in my opinion.” Pete said, and Natasha’s mouth quirked up at the corners.

“Thanks.” She said, finally looking over at him as she sat up. “Not just for…doing that, but also for catching him in the first place.” She folded her hands, feeling caught off-guard.

“I’d say anytime, but I honest-to-god hope that never happens again.” Pete laments, and she nods. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that right?” Pete continues, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, no, I know. It was that douchebag’s fault. I just…I didn’t notice. And if you hadn’t, I could've given it to one of the guys, or worse, Halo, or I actually drank it. Someone could’ve had a reaction to it. People have been telling me since fucking middle school to watch my drinks, I knew I was supposed to be watching my drinks, and I still let it happen. I was so careless, and there's not even a good reason why…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes were laser-focused on her feet. It was dark outside, so Pete couldn’t tell for sure, but the overhead lights glinted off of her bottom eyelids, suggesting that tears were collecting there.

“But you didn’t drink it. You didn't give it to anyone else. No one got hurt, and that's all that matters.” Pete said. “And here’s a little advice for you. What-if scenarios are a common reaction when faced with any decision or experience. They can be a good learning tool or an opportunity for self-reflection. But in cases like this, they’re also a rabbit hole that you can spiral into, and they aren’t going to help you here.” He said, and she shrugged, before tearing her eyes off of her feet to meet his gaze once more.

“The worst-case scenario has already been prevented. And the memory of it can stick so you can be prepared in case it happens again. But don’t dwell on it, Natasha, you don’t deserve that.” Pete said gently, offering his hand to her, which she accepted, and squeezed tightly in reassurance.

“Okay, Mav.” She whispered. “Thanks.”

“Now, c’mon. Why don’t we go inside, and find something to drink that isn’t going to put us on edge for the rest of the night.” Pete suggested, opening his door.

But still, Natasha didn’t move.

She stared at the house, eyes focused on a nearby window that had light shining out of it, indicative of the occupants inside.

“I don’t know why I’m scared.” She whispered, and Pete ruminated on that for a moment.

“Are you scared of them?” He asked hesitantly, and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“No, fuck no. I trust those assholes with my life, I just…”

“It wouldn’t happen to them. And you’re worried they’ll, what, blame you for it happening at all?” Pete asked, eyebrows drawn together.

“No…yes? I don’t know.” She said, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Well, they won’t,” Pete stated bluntly. “And frankly anyone who does blame you should be getting told to fuck off.”

Natasha snorted, unable to suppress her reaction. “I do like telling people to fuck off.” She smirked, looking back at Pete.

“Look,” Pete sighed, shifting his body in the driver's seat to turn more towards her. “Before we left the bar tonight, Penny told me that I couldn’t fix this for you. And she’s right. There’s only so much I can do, but I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make it better, and that starts with actually holding the people who are to blame accountable. You are not one of those people. And the minute anyone tries to convince you otherwise, I want you to tell me because that’s just an example of propagating the cycle. And I’ll make sure everyone else in there knows that too, okay?”

Natasha let out a slow exhale through her nose, before finally smiling at him. “Okay, Mav. Now let’s go inside.”

For the rest of the night, Pete still found himself glancing over at her occasionally, but this time it was with relief because, for the rest of the night, she never stopped smiling.

Chapter Text

Pete would admit outright that he did not know much about Neil Vikander. Despite having spent a lot of time with the young man, and having read his service record thoroughly, Pete couldn’t say he knew too much on the personal front.

Until the kid showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, while it was actually pouring rain for once in California.

The pounding on the door had woken both Mav and Ice up, but Pete had been the first to get there, opening up to see Omaha standing, soaking wet, on the porch, dangerously swaying.

“Jesus, fuck, Omaha,” Pete swore, lurching towards him just in time to catch the young man as his knees buckled beneath him. “Ice, can you grab some towels, please? And I think Bradley left some clothes here, I need to get this kid dry. He’s freezing.”

Ice nodded, pivoting on his feet towards the guest bedroom, and Pete helped Omaha inside, kicking the door closed behind him. Water dripped off of the young man, soaking Pete's pajamas, but he didn't care. 

“Mav,” Omaha slurred, looking dazed. “…nee’ t' talk t'you.”

“I can see that,” Maverick muttered. “What happened?”

Omaha’s head just lolled to the side, and Pete cringed, mentally noting that he should check for injuries. A bright red mark was visible just under the kid’s jaw, a fresh bruise of some kind. Quashing the internal fury at seeing a mark of any kind on him, Pete slowly set Omaha against the wall and guided him to the ground, before moving as quickly as he could to get his phone. Switching on the flashlight function on to shine in Omaha’s eyes, Pete grew concerned as it barely yielded a reaction from Vikander, but he was satisfied that the pupil response looked normal.

Pete began checking for other things.

No other bruises on his hands or wrists. No defensive wounds.

No abnormal movement in his torso. No broken ribs or lung issues.

No lacerations or cuts of any kind. No bleeding.

Ice came back with a pile of neatly folded towels, one of Pete’s t-shirts, and a pair of sweatpants Pete recognized as Bradley’s. Gratefully accepting the towels, Pete manipulated one of them around Neil’s shoulders, pulling the edge up over the crown of his head, and gently rubbed the towel around to pull some of the water out of his hair.

The ministrations seemed to revive the younger man somewhat, as his eyes fluttered between open and closed, casually shifting into Maverick’s hands.

“Neil? Can you tell me what happened?” Pete asked gently, trying to rouse the younger man.

“Mmm…got in a fight.” Neil mumbled.

“With who?” Pete pushed.

“..mm’y dad. He doesn’t like me anymore.” Neil bared his teeth into a depreciating grin. “..ss’about time. Th’nk he’ll leave me alone now?”

If not for the fragile state of the pilot in front of him, Pete would have lost his shit then and there. Already, idea after idea came into Pete’s mind about what he wanted to do to Neil’s father, but right now, Pete was going to take care of this kid in front of him.

His kid now, Pete decided. In a way, all of the aviators were now his kids, but this just made it official. None of them would have shitty parents if Pete could help it. Not that he could tell them that. 

“Okay, c’mon. Let’s get you up and out of those wet clothes.” Pete said, pulling on Omaha’s arms, and Omaha nodded sleepily, gripping Maverick tightly.

“Don’t worry ‘bout the scars.” Omaha said, plucking at the hem of his shirt. Pete didn’t understand what that meant until he finally hauled Omaha into the guest bedroom that they normally had reserved for Bradley when he came to stay, and slowly guided the wet garments off of Omaha, pulling off the kid’s flannel and belt, before going for his shoes next, which Pete mentally noted needed to be put somewhere warm to dry off. Omaha clumsily helped, pulling off his wet undershirt, revealing his chest.

That's when Pete realized what Omaha was talking about. 

Two neat surgical scars adorned either side of Omaha’s chest just underneath his pectorals, that stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding skin under the artificial lights of the room. Pete barely had time to react, struck speechless by the implications of what he was looking at before he caught a look at Omaha’s face, who was now lucid enough to be intently watching Pete’s reaction.

“Okay. Think you can handle your pants?” Pete said, locking eyes with Omaha, making sure to keep his voice even. Omaha nodded, suddenly looking very unsure of himself.

“Mav, I uh…” Omaha’s eyes drop to the ground, and his body language becomes very closed off as he realizes how exposed he feels at that moment.

“Hey, look at me,” Pete says, and Neil slowly meets his gaze.

“You’re one of the best men I know, you’re a damn good pilot, and I’m really proud of you. This changes nothing." Pete tries to make it sound like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say, but the emotions and questions tumulting inside him made that really hard.

Omaha’s face splits into a relieved grin, and Pete suddenly finds himself being tackled into a hug, but he really cannot find it within himself to mind, at least until he realizes that the water soaking into his clothes isn’t just rainwater.

It was tears.

“Hey, no, you’re okay,” Pete pulled back, pushing Omaha onto the bed. “What’s going on?”

“You…I was…” Omaha stammered, trying to catch his breath, but tears kept running down his face. “Fuck, I…” His breathing picked up, and Pete stiffened, realizing that Omaha was teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

“Omaha, it’s okay. Just breathe with me for a minute. Forget everything that’s going on for a moment. You’re safe, and I want you to just breathe with me for a moment.” Pete said, placing both of his hands on either side of Omaha’s face, gently cupping his cheeks, thumbs brushing away the spilled tears.

Exaggerating his breathing, Pete made loud breath sounds, waiting for Omaha to slowly mirror him. It took a moment, but finally, the two were breathing in sync. Pete could tell the younger man was flagging with energy, and so after taking a minute to be sure that Neil wasn’t going to devolve back into panic, Pete quickly offered him the shirt, pulling it over Omaha’s head. Together they maneuvered his arms into the respective holes, and then Pete offered him the sweatpants.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water, okay? I’ll be back in a minute, and I’ll throw those clothes in the laundry.” Pete said, and Omaha gave him a small nod.

Leaving the room, Pete wandered into the kitchen where he found Ice sitting at the breakfast bar, with three cups of hot chocolate already made, along with a glass of water ready to go, casually sipping on one.

“I love you,” Pete said, looking at his husband with adoration.

Ice gave him a smile. “I know. I love you too. Is he okay?”

Pete let out a frustrated huff. “No, not really. Physically, he’s fine. Emotionally? Kid’s been through the wringer.”

“Do you know how he got here? I looked outside for a car, there was nothing out there. He could have taken an Uber, or a taxi, I don’t know, but you saw how soaked he was?”

Pete nodded, sighed, and sat down next to his husband. “Yeah. You don’t get that wet unless you’ve been out there a while. His shoes were practically filled to the brim, he definitely  walked here.”

“The question is, from where? He can’t have walked here all the way from Lemoore.” Ice said, and Pete frowned.

“I don’t know. The only thing he mentioned about what happened was that he had a fight with his father. His family lives in Nebraska.” Pete said, and Ice gave him a side-eye.

“He hit him?”

Pete shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I can’t say for sure. But I think he was pinned against a wall or something. He’s got a mark on his neck, might be a bruise, which I’ll take a better look at in the morning. But the kid’s wiped.” Pete said, distractedly, absentmindedly staring at the mug in front of him.

Ice raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Pete looked at him, weighing his next words carefully in his mind. “Omaha’s trans.” Pete finally admitted, and Ice blinked in surprise.

“I…would not have clocked that. Wow.” Ice let out a surprised huff. A flash of guilt coursed through Pete as it occurred to him that he didn't really have the right to just share that with anyone without Neil's permission, but Pete had to say something. He couldn't really focus on anything else. 

“Me neither. And it shouldn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, really, I don’t know why I’m getting stuck on it. As long as he’s comfortable in his own body, who the hell cares, right?” Pete said, picking up a hot chocolate. “I’m just…”

“A product of your generation?” Ice said.

Pete wrinkled his nose. “Fuck no, I hate that. Makes it sound like my age can justify being an asshole. I didn’t suddenly choose not to learn anything as society evolved while I got older. No. I guess…I’m just impressed. And scared for him. The world had opinions about us, and we just chose to love each other. I’d hate to think what it would think about him.”

“To be honest, Pete, I think the only thing he’s really concerned about right now is what you think of him.” Ice said, catching Pete’s attention.

“What does that mean?” Pete asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

“Well, we don’t know the full story here, but to me, it sounds an awful lot like he just had a fight with his father, and you were the first person he came to.”

Pete opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. A warm feeling grew in his gut, and Mav snapped his mouth shut, as Ice’s eyes twinkled at him.

“I…we have kids now, don’t we?” Pete said, shock flooding his system, and Ice couldn’t help it. He started laughing, leaving Pete feeling slightly embarrassed.

“It’s about time you admitted it.” Ice heaved, and Pete flushed.

“They’re fully grown adults, with their own families, and lives.”

“Didn’t stop you from mentally adopting them.” Ice retorted. “Also, Rooster doesn’t count. As far as anyone’s concerned on that front, that kid always had three parents, you, Goose, and Carole were just co-parenting.”

“Technically, Rooster isn’t…”

“Bullshit, Pete. Rooster is your kid. He’s called himself your kid. And it’s not like you’re replacing his parents or any of theirs for that matter. You’re just part of their village now. You’re allowed to care about them like that. I genuinely don’t think any of them would mind.” Ice said, and Pete mulled those words over.

“Okay.” Pete let out a small smile. “Okay.” He nodded, giving his husband a grateful look before picking up the third cup of hot chocolate, and the water, and heading back to Omaha’s room. Adjusting the water glass so that it was sandwiched between his arm and his chest, Pete knocked, and Omaha opened the door, now kitted out in the shirt and sweatpants, towel slung over his shoulders, hair sticking up like he’d aggressively dried it.

“Delivery.” Pete grinned, and Omaha zeroed in on the hot chocolate.

“Thanks.” Pete handed the mug over to the eager pilot, who cautiously sipped on the drink, smiling at the perfect temperature.

“I brought the water as well,” Pete said, making sure Omaha noticed him place it on the bedside table.

“Thank you. Really. Mav, I…can we talk?” Omaha said, sitting on the bed, mug gripped between both hands.

“Yeah. We can talk.” Pete said, putting his hand on Omaha’s shoulder, bending at the waist to get eye-level with him. “And that can be whenever you’re ready, okay? Tonight, in the morning, next week, doesn’t matter. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to force this conversation, okay? I’m just guessing here, but tonight’s already been a lot, you can take a break if you need one.”

Omaha swallowed. “Some of it…we can talk about tomorrow, if that’s okay? I want to tell you what happened, at least to get your advice. But I…I feel like I need to talk to you about me, about my…status…now.” Omaha made a face as he said the word status, which clearly denoted the same feeling that flashed through Pete upon hearing the word.

“Okay.” Pete sat on the bed, gently removing the mug from Omaha’s hands to put on the bedside table next to the water.

“I’m trans.” Omaha stated, staring blankly at the wall. “I started transitioning in high school, started figuring out how to pass early on. My babysitter, when I was younger, she was into that cosplay-like stuff, taught me about makeup, and showed me some tricks. I also worked out a lot, hid masculine clothes in my backpack to change in the bathrooms, because my parents…they didn’t get it, y’know? My dad, he especially didn’t like it. Said I was born a girl, that…he said a lot of stuff, that didn’t really make me feel good. I had to get away from them, so I joined the military, which wasn’t super welcoming either, but it was a hell of a lot better than what I was putting up with at home.”

“That says a lot, and at the same time, not enough.” Pete said, and Omaha seemed almost surprised to hear Pete talk. “I’m not going to assume here, so quick question? What do you identify as, gender-wise?”

“Male. I use he/him pronouns.” Omaha said reluctantly, a curious expression on his face.

“Okay. Next thing. I’m totally happy to listen, but I am going to say that you do not have to justify your gender identity by explaining your history with it.”

Omaha froze, before opening his mouth. But he said nothing. It closed again. And then it opened again. “Oh. Sorry. I guess I’m just used to having to justify my experience with my history and commitment to, y’know, being a guy. People tend to ask for that.”

“Not me. And you don’t need to apologize. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to explain anything to me. At least, on that front.”

“What do you want me to explain then?” Neil asked.

“I guess I’m just curious why you decided to show me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you trusted me enough to do so, but I feel like you were a bit out of it when that happened, and hadn’t really been thinking.”

“Well, to be honest, Mav, I kind of already told everyone else, that day on the beach? I didn’t hide my scars then. Most people noticed, but you were one of the people that didn’t ask me about it afterward. And then after you and Ice came out…well, I wondered if you had noticed and just didn’t care, or if you hadn’t. And then…well, I don’t know. I guess after tonight, I just wanted someone in my life that didn’t mind it, who wouldn’t treat me differently because of it. So I came looking for you.”

“In the rain.” Pete said, and Omaha snorted.

“The rain ain’t my fault. It’s just got shitty timing.”

“So what happened with your parents then, tonight?” Pete asked, and Neil just shrugged.

“My dad has decided to get into politics. He’s putting in a bid for the Nebraska governor’s race in the next election, and he wants my whole family involved in the campaign trail. Him, my mom, and his words exactly, his patriot of a daughter.” Omaha’s voice got very bitter. “He wants me to participate in an ad campaign, plans to use all of these photos of me, pre-transition, to appeal to the family values voters. I said no, that I didn’t consent to him using those pictures, and that since I’m not a girl, if he said he had a daughter, then he would be lying to the public and that wouldn’t be a good start to his campaign.”

Pete winced. “I can imagine what happened next.”

“Oh, I bet. The next thing I know, he’s grabbing me by my neck, shoving me against the wall, and my mom starts screaming. He backs off, and I get the fuck outta there. Before I know it, I’m on the next flight back to California, and hell, I left a load of shit behind. I didn’t even have a carry-on. Phone, wallet, that’s all. I was getting low on cash by the time I made it back, so I hopped on the nearest bus and walked the rest of the way here. Plus, my phone died, so I couldn’t call you.”

“Okay. Well, let’s get that on charge, and then that way you can call to remind him your military records have you documented as a male, so either your father has to tell everyone you’re a man or call the military a liar. I’d love to see what the latter would do to his projections.”

Omaha’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened. “I didn’t even think about that!” He grinned, his entire face lighting up. “God, I wish I’d said that earlier, I would have loved to see his face!”

Pete chuckled. “Me too.” The smile then slipped off his face, and he wrapped an arm around Omaha.

“Do you need to get the stuff you left behind?” Pete asked, and Omaha shook his head.

“No, it was just clothes. I can replace those. I’m not going back there. Ever.” Neil said, his expression going cold. “I can’t.”

“Good. I’ll let Ice know you’ll be staying with us on your next leave then.” Pete said, clapping a hand on his knee. Omaha adopted a stunned look.

“Uh…you don’t have to? I can stay elsewhere.”

“You could, but it’s always nice to spend leave with family. And you’re family now.” Pete stated, giving him a look.

A mix of emotions crossed Omaha’s face, and he leaped up to wrap Pete in a hug. “Please tell me you mean that.”

“I mean it. I will always mean it.” Pete said, rubbing his hand between Omaha’s shoulder blades. “I’ve got your back.”

Chapter Text

The Navy Birthday Ball held every year at the Academy was always an event. Just not an event Pete looked forward to very much. Honestly, the entire concept made his skin crawl, since it was just an opportunity to amp the socio-political happenings between officers and politicians up to a new level, while everyone was uncomfortable in their uniforms, or whatever was being worn by a person accompanying said uniform.

The first time Pete had attended the Ball, had been only a couple of weeks before the official transition between him and Ice as COMPACFLT. And he’d hated every minute of it. For the entire night, both of them had been subjected to distasteful stares, muted whispering, and casual underhanded conversation topics that provided far too much subtext on the varying opinions about their relationship and their professionalism.

The second time hadn’t been much better. This time with his four stars, it wasn’t just contempt for Pete and Tom directed their way, it was outright hostility and jealousy. It had been the worst night either of them had been subjected to in a while, and they’d actually made excuses to leave early out of a desire to maintain their sanity, and the physical integrity of some other people’s faces.

So when the invitation for this year’s ball came in the mail, Pete couldn’t help but fantasize about the internal thoughts of burning the card in question, and outright lying that it must have gotten lost in the mail if asked later.

But he couldn’t do that. In the twenty-three months that he’d been in the COMPACFLT position, Pete had learned that if he wanted to make progress, actual progress, in moving towards his goal of making the Navy better for his kids, and future generations of sailors, aviators, and other service members, he had to at least follow some rules.

Like the one that said his attendance at this ball was, in fact, mandatory.

And then the worst happened.

Three days before Pete was set to fly to Annapolis, Ice caught a cold. The culprit(s) for this offense, Pete suspected, had to be one of Sarah’s grandchildren, all of whom had only been back in school for a month, and each somehow had already caught and brought home the bug circling the classrooms. And then passed it on to Sarah, who in turn had passed it onto Ice.

Pete had it in his right mind to make everyone they interacted with wear masks leading up to the event next year, but right now…this was a problem. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to leave while his husband was sick, but Pete could admit to being slightly selfish in that he did not want to face this event alone.

But even with a slight temperature, Ice would not let him make excuses, giving him a perfectly raised eyebrow over a cup of tea and a saucer of cough drops. And so Pete reluctantly packed, while his husband supervised from the bed.

Which was now how Pete found himself here, in full dress uniform, holding a glass of wine he did not want to drink surrounded by people he neither wanted to talk to nor piss off. Content with his half-assed plan to awkwardly stand in the corner while curiously looking at the generations of history that adorned the walls, Pete briefly felt a flash of guilt upon remembering he could have invited Hondo to come with him instead.

“Admiral Mitchell.” A familiar voice called out, and Pete turned around to see Cyclone approaching him, a forced look of enthusiasm on his face.

“Vice Admiral Simpson. Good to see you.” Pete greeted, only slightly relishing in the man’s discomfort upon using Pete’s rank.

“Likewise. I confess I didn’t think I would see you here.” Simpson said, waving his own glass of wine around the room, gesturing to the event in general. “This really doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“It really isn’t. But I can occasionally follow some orders, like the one that says be here or else.” Pete griped, taking a sip from the glass in his hand, only to cringe at the taste once more.

“And is your husband with you tonight?” Simpson asked. Pete shook his head.

“No, I’m flying solo tonight. Ice spent a bit too much time with his grand-nieces and nephews over the past weekend, and caught a bug for his troubles. My sister-in-law is staying with him, and I’m sure the two of them are having much more fun than I am right now.” Pete lamented.

Simpson snorted. “Mmm, I don’t miss those days. I dreaded back to school when my kids were growing up, somehow they managed to get sick every year.”

“I didn’t know you had children?” Pete said, and Simpson nodded.

“Yep. Three. Two boys and a girl. All in their twenties right now, so back to school isn’t an issue anymore, because they all graduated college.”

Before Pete could ask what his children had studied, the two admirals found their conversation interrupted as Captain Jack Lennox entered the room, making a beeline for Pete.

“Admiral Mitchell!” The man called out, drawing a few glances. But Pete could see from the Captain’s face that he couldn’t care less right at that moment.

“Captain Lennox, good to see you.” Pete greeted, smiling.

“Likewise, Admiral. I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, sirs, but have either of you seen my nephew?” Jack asked, and Pete blinked in surprise. He hadn’t even known Brigham was here tonight.

“No, I haven’t. Is he here?”

“He’s supposed to be. I got a text from him an hour ago, saying he was on his way, but he hasn’t responded to anything since, no texts, no phone calls, they all go straight to voicemail. I can’t get in contact with him, and I’m starting to get worried.” Lennox said.

Instinctively, Pete pulled out his own phone with the intent of calling Harvard, as his stomach began to churn with concern for the younger man. But as quickly as he reacted, Pete changed tactics. If Harvard wasn't answering the phone, someone else would have to do.

Going into his favorites list of contacts, Pete scrolled down to find Yale's number instead, silently praying that Logan would answer the phone, despite what time of night it was.

One ring.

Two rings.

And on the third, Logan picked up. “Mav" His voice sounded rough and sleepy, but Pete couldn't find it in him to feel guilty for waking the pilot up. "Did you mean to call me?”

“Yeah, Logan, sorry to be calling so late, but have you heard from Brigham at all? He was supposed to be at the Navy Ball in Annapolis tonight, but he’s over an hour late, and his uncle can’t get in touch with him.” Pete asked, glancing at Captain Lennox, who was trying to call his nephew once more.

“Uh…no, I haven’t heard from him. Do you want me to call him?” Logan asked, and Pete sighed.

“No, but thanks. I don't think you'll have any more success than we will. Let me know if you do hear from him, okay?”

“Sure thing. Oh…uh…gimme a minute. Don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s kinda notorious for losing his car, so he has a tracking thing in it. We connected it to my phone once while doing a grocery run. So, since he took his car, I might be able to find out where it is.”

“He has a tracker in his car?” Pete asked, bewildered. Similar looks of confusion were mirrored on Lennox’s and Simpson’s faces. Was that a millennial thing, that people just had trackers in their cars now?

“Yeah. It’s weird how many liberties we let technology take at the price of convenience, isn’t it?” Logan said distractedly. “Okay, so I’ve got the car’s location…it’s stationary on the side of U.S. Route 50. Lemme text you the location.”

“Okay, thanks.” The text message came through quickly, and Pete immediately plugged the location into the maps app on his phone, relieved to see that the location wasn’t far at all.

The car was only 20 minutes away.

“Thanks, Yale. I’ll get him to contact you after we find him.”

“Sounds good. Call him a dumbass for me. The idiot probably ran out of fuel, I swear, he constantly forgets to go to the gas station.” Logan ranted, before hanging up the phone, and Pete couldn’t help the little snort that he let out at the phrasing.

“How the hell do we get to him? I took a taxi straight from the airport tonight.” Lennox sighed.

“I have a rental, I can go pick him up,” Pete said, and Lennox froze before his entire body seemed to relax with relief.

“Admiral, I…if you would, I would greatly appreciate that. I'm due to give a speech in an hour, so if we get there and back quick;y, I could...”

"Tonight’s not an event you can skip," Pete interrupted. "I will go get him, you prepare for your speech. With my rank and reputation, no one’s going to call me out for being absent for a bit.” Pete quickly handed off the glass of wine in his hand to a passing waiter. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

“At least you have an honest assessment of yourself.” Cyclone muttered, and Pete gave him a bemused look.

“Thank you, Admiral. I owe you one.” Captain Lennox gave him a respectful nod.

“Not at all. Consider it me returning you a favor after that incident a while back with Machado.”

Lennox blinked and then gave Pete a genuine smile. “Yes sir.”

Which was how Pete now found himself driving down a dark road in the middle of the night, surrounded by trees, looking for Brigham Lennox’s car. He was just about to call Yale once more when he finally spotted a vehicle parked on the hard shoulder, lights off, and a very frustrated figure staring forlornly at the open hood.

Pete honked, concealing the relief he felt, and his headlights immediately lit up the scene, revealing Brigham Lennox standing there, in his dress uniform no less.

“Need a jump there, Lieutenant?” Pete called out, pulling up to sit his rental right next to Lennox’s.

“Mav? What the hell are you doing out here?” Harvard asked, before taking in Maverick’s own attire. “Shit, of course. You’re at the ball too.”

“Yeah, and so is your uncle, who’s worried about you.”

“Yeah, I’d give him a call, but my phone died right before my car did.” Lennox kicked the front bumper of the vehicle. “You’d think, operating multi-million-dollar aircraft with super advanced technology and weapons systems, I’d have an inkling of an idea about what to do right now, but I’m really fucking lost. And pissed.”

“And you’re a dumbass,” Pete said, and Harvard took on an offended look before it transitioned to confusion, and then resignation.

“Yale put you up to that! Fuck. He’s gonna be so smug when I get back to base. He used the tracker, didn’t he?"

“Good thing he did, too.” Maverick looked at the ground next to the car, before looking up at Harvard. “When was the last time you had your car inspected?”

“Uh, a few years ago, maybe? I got it secondhand from my cousin. Why?”

“You see that trail on the ground behind the car? That’s not condensation from your engine. Based on the smell, that’s gas. You’ve got a leak.” Maverick identified, wrinkling his nose at the clear scent of gasoline as he crouched to get a closer look.

“Tell me that’s a joke?” Brigham pleaded, before scowling at the car. “That explains why I keep running out of gas. Fuck. Piece of shit’s gonna cost me an arm and a leg to fix. Might even be cheaper to get a new one.”

“Mmm. Either way, you’re not driving this thing again tonight.” Pete said, before pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna call a tow, I suggest you start gathering shit, because it’s cold out here, and we’re not going to stand out here and freeze.”

With that, the two of them managed their respective tasks, and Pete quickly remembered to message both Captain Lennox and Yale, before making the younger man climb into Pete’s rental. Getting in the driver’s seat, the two of them stayed put until the tow showed up, hitching up Brigham’s car, and the driver left a card as to where he could find the lot.

“How the hell am I gonna get back to base without my car?” Brigham groaned, watching as the tow pulled his vehicle away.

“I can drive you. I was planning on making a visit to DC anyways, so I can drop you off before. The only thing I’m not sure about is how to get your car back to Virginia.” Pete offered, and Harvard grimaced before giving Pete a grateful look.

“Thanks, Mav. A ride would be great. And uh…thanks for this too.”

“What do you mean?” Pete frowned.

“You came looking for me. You helped me out, and you didn’t make me feel stupid for getting myself in this situation. I just wanted to say I appreciate that.”

“Hey, you don’t need to thank me. I just didn’t like the idea of you being out here alone, for god knows how long. And I don’t need to make you feel stupid, your wingman will do that for me.” Harvard snorted, and the corners of Pete’s mouth quirked up. “But in all seriousness, tonight wasn’t your fault, it was just an accident, and they happen.”

“Yeah, I know.” Harvard waved his hand, dismissing Pete. “But I’m still grateful anyways. I know I’m not a part of the main group or stationed in Lemoore like all of the others, but it’s nice to know you care as much about me and Yale as everyone else.”

Pete was silent, having not realized that Brigham would separate himself from the group like that. It hadn’t even crossed Pete’s mind.

“I just appreciate it, s’what I’m saying. I’ve never had a CO that’d do that for me, before.  Now, we should probably go, I’m late enough to this thing as is.” Harvard said, feeling slightly awkward.

Pete just groaned. “Is it okay to admit part of me was glad to come and find you so I’d have an excuse to leave the ball in the first place?”

Brigham laughed. “Probably not. It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“Considering I walked out of being in the middle of a conversation with Cyclone to come out here, yes. It can.”

“Damn Mav! What did Cyclone want?”

“I don’t even know.” Maverick sighed.

“Well, I can always stick by you. Besides, I’ve heard some stories about you, and I really wanna hear you tell ‘em if that’s alright.”

Pete gave him the side-eye. “What stories?”

“I don’t know, a few. Is it really true you inverted your jet to fly parallel to a MiG and flipped him off while doing it?”

Pete laughed. It had been so long since he’d been told that story. And you know what? He didn’t mind telling it again. Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t have the time. So, with good company, the anxiety and resentment for tonight’s commitment washed away, and Pete opened his mouth to speak.

“Yeah well, you see what happened was…”

Chapter Text

When Retired Admiral Mike Metcalf burst into his office unannounced, Maverick knew it was going to be a complicated day, and briefly wrote a note to remind himself to text his husband that he’d be home late.

“Viper, this is a surprise…” Pete began greeting him, but Metcalf just plopped himself down in the chair facing Mav’s desk with a loud sigh.

Pete found himself caught off-guard, and sat back down himself, waiting for Viper to state his business. He couldn’t imagine this being the result of a social call. And so, the two men sat in silence for a moment, as Maverick stared at his former COs, trying mentally to work through the purpose of the man’s visit.

“Is your stubbornness contagious?” Metcalf said finally.

Pete stiffened. That was unexpected.

“Sir?’ Maverick frowned, confused.

“Is your stubbornness contagious?” Metcalf sat up, speaking louder, glaring at Pete.

“No?” Pete answered, leveling with the other man. “If it were, Goose would have been as much a pain in your ass as I was back in the day.”

“He was a pain in my ass, Maverick, because you were a pain in my ass! That loyal son of a bitch couldn’t let you have all the fun! But it’s not Goose I’m talking about. I’m talking about my daughter-in-law!”

Viper’s daughter-in-law, aka, Callie Basset, callsign Halo.

Exemplary pilot, scuttlebutt queen, and one of the few people who actually could give Pete a run for his money on stubbornness. He’d suffered more than a few hangovers after drinking game challenges to prove it.

“Do I even want to know?” Pete asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose, knowing that whatever family dispute he was about to get dragged into was going to be interesting.

“I’m going to be a grandfather,” Metcalf said, and Maverick’s head whipped up to lock eyes with Viper.

“Callie’s pregnant?”

Metcalf nodded, and Maverick grinned.

“Congratulations!” He made a mental note to call her later, and offer congratulations to Halo directly, but Metcalf’s expression only soured into a panicked, fearful look.

“She’s applying to keep flying into her second trimester, in a medical service capacity,” Metcalf explained with a grave look on his face, but Pete just blinked. There was nothing wrong with that? It was a hell of a lot safer than operating a fighter jet!

“It’s her prerogative to do so, Viper? She’s pregnant, not incapacitated, and it only gets approved for what? 22 weeks? By her third trimester, she’ll be facing fifteen months on the ground, which is practically a prison sentence for a pilot.” Pete defended, recalling the briefing he’d read precisely on this matter.

“I want you to deny it.”

Pete blinked, frozen.

Oh.

Oh no.

“No,” Pete said firmly. An outraged look came over Viper’s face, but before he could say anything, Pete continued. “That is absolutely not my call, that is up to the group of flight surgeons that assess her, not me.”

“It can be up to you! You’re her superior officer! You CAN ground her, Pete, before she or the baby gets hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter. Ask me for any other favor. Better base housing, babysitting, I’ll pay to decorate the nursery! But I won’t make decisions for her, I can’t. Callie’s a responsible woman who knows her limits, and I can’t just make an exception grounding her because you asked me to!” Pete exclaimed.  “Plus, if I deny her flying, that may set a precedent for every other female pilot who gets pregnant while in the service, and frankly, that’s not a practice I intend to perpetuate.” He continued.

And then another thought occurred to Pete. “I flew an F-14 with a broken neck, Viper, she can fly safer aircraft while growing a human being.”

Viper wasn’t done protesting. “She’s not you, Maverick! She’s my daughter-in-law, and that’s my damn grandkid! I’m begging you, please, do something!”

“I understand you want to protect her, I do, but it’s her body, it’s her pregnancy, and it’s her decision,” Pete said firmly, and Mike sunk into his chair with a defeated look on his face…only to full-bodily flinch as Pete’s office door slammed open, revealing a very pissed-off Halo sporting the new Navy pregnancy flight suit which only hinted at the swell of a baby bump.

“You son of a bitch!” She yelled, zeroing in over her father-in-law, and moving to loom over him. Pete flinched at the volume. “How dare you!” She cried, face conflicting between sadness and anger. “How dare you get involved like this, how dare you bring Mav into it! How dare you?” She flung something at Metcalf, who threw up his arms to defend himself as she continued to smack him.

Stunned into silence, Maverick watched as she yelled, starting to go red in the face as she repeatedly slapped her father-in-law with the object in her hand, landing a blow on whatever she could reach, not caring as she drew attention.

Captain Bran Davies stood outside Pete’s office, staring at the scene in horror, before making eye contact with Maverick. He mimed calling security, but Pete silently shook his head. More people gathered to stare, so Pete subtly texted Davies to close the door and waved his cell phone at the man so he would read the message.

The door was quickly closed.

Pete continued to watch Halo exert her energy, and after a full three minutes of observing was finally able to identify that she was smacking her father-in-law with a pink house slipper. Metcalf shouted back at her, trying to get her to stop, but that only incensed her further, and she switched to Mandarin, clearly having decided she wasn’t done swearing at him.

Pete internally grinned, having learned enough Chinese vulgarities from his years in the Navy to get a good idea of how many generations of Metcalfs Callie was willing to insult. Relishing in this unexpected amusement, Pete leaned back in his chair and watched the drama unfold, resigning that he would take control of the situation in a moment.

While that moment passed, Pete took a sip of coffee, and Callie at some point switched back to English.

Another moment passed.

And then a third.

And a fourth.

Finally, Maverick stood up, catching Callie’s attention, and distracting her from the rampage she was raining down upon her father-in-law.

“Sit down, Halo.”

She paused, letting out a long exhale while holding eye contact with him, and then looked back at her father-in-law, who wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Halo sat. And then Pete sat.  

“First things first, congratulations on the pregnancy.” Maverick smiled warmly, and she nodded before glaring at Viper. “How many weeks along are you?”

“Thank you, Mav. Thirteen weeks. I was waiting until the second trimester to tell people.” She said pointedly, glaring at Viper. “I’m sorry about all this…and bursting into your office, making a scene.” She mumbled, twisting the slipper in her hands.

Maverick held up his hand and shook his head. “Not at all, you have nothing to apologize for.” He said, emphasizing the you while staring intently at Viper, who cringed in his seat, before glancing at his daughter-in-law.

“Callie, I don’t think you should be flying in your condition.” Viper doubled down, and she rolled her eyes.

“Baba, I don’t care,” she said. “It’s my choice, not yours.”

“Actually it’s the choice of the flight surgeons that are going to assess you when your request is reviewed,” Pete interrupted the brewing family dispute, drawing both of their attentions. “This isn’t the Air Force, we haven’t removed that requirement yet. As it stands, past twelve weeks, she’s already prohibited from flying fighter jets. In fact, she can’t fly anything that exceeds a speed of 2 Gs or 10,000 feet in altitude, and she can’t fly anything alone. No combat missions, just supply runs and emergency trips.” Pete emphasized, locking eyes with Metcalf.

“I think that’s enough restrictions, don’t you? She and her doctors should decide the rest.”

Metcalf bowed his head, avoiding looking at either of them.

Halo nodded, before doing a double-take, glancing between Maverick and Viper. “Wait, you’re on my side? Even though he’s…?”

Pete nodded, and she just relaxed, letting out a relieved exhale, which only prompted Pete to glare at Viper, who winced.

Relief overcame her for a moment before she cracked her neck and an annoyed expression came over her face. “You know, it took 47 years to develop the flight suit I’m wearing,” She said, closing her eyes and tipping her head back as her fingers interlaced and rested on the top of her belly. “Women weren’t even allowed to be pilots until 1974. This flight suit made its debut three years ago. Before then, women just had to wear bigger suits, and roll up the sleeves and pant legs, like that was safe. My instructor, while I was in flight school, had safety pins tucked away in hers, taking up the waistline because the crotch sagged so low she said she felt like a penguin, which in hindsight was twice the insult because the penguin is a flightless bird.”

“Do you know how insulting that was? That our best solution was to take something that was already scary as hell,” He voice cracked. “And make things more dangerous because the men in charge couldn’t come up with a better accommodation? And how insulting it is for you, to come here and try to take control of my career, my life even because I made a decision to start a family?”

She lifted her head, looking at Metcalf. “Not to mention the situation you just put Maverick in by asking! If he’d done what you’d asked, he could’ve been risking his career! That kind of shit can get you court-martialed these days.”

She then froze and glanced at Maverick. “He did ask, right? You do know what’s going on?”

Maverick nodded, and she sighed. “And what’s worse, Alex will only say that he understands where you’re coming from, so I have to deal with that too, feeling like I don’t have support from him, or you Baba, so thanks for that.” She spat, and Viper flinched, hearing the anger in her voice.

“All I’m asking for is ten weeks more, and I intend to milk it for all it’s worth.” She whispered weakly, tears shimmering in her eyes.

“But what if…” Viper protested.

“If you make another damn comment about safety, I will throw the pamphlet that came with my birth control at your head.” She hissed. “I’m aware of the risks, but if you were so concerned about my health, you wouldn’t want me to be pregnant either, because that can be just as dangerous as flying.”

Maverick raised an eyebrow, considering that. So did Viper, who nodded finally, muttering a quiet apology.

“You’re not forgiven. Not yet.” Callie said, despite appearing to be mollified. “But you have ten weeks to make it up to me.” She threatened, which prompted Viper to open his mouth in protest.

Maverick coughed, interrupting him.

“Ten weeks is a very short time, Viper. Compared to the near-70 weeks of leave she’s about to get.” Maverick reminded. “Ten weeks to make her forget all about this before she’s home full-time and making you change the diapers as a way of making things up to her.”

Metcalf’s eyes widened in betrayal, and a slow smirk grew on Callie’s face.

“I’m sure you’ll also be taking the ten-week period to make sure she has nothing to worry about by the time she gets on leave, like making sure she has all the supplies she could ever want and a nursery fully set up.” Maverick continued, and Viper deflated. Callie was now full-on grinning, and she kept glancing over at her father-in-law as if to say “He’s giving me ideas, now.”

“Mav, that sounds like a great idea. I should come to you more for parenting advice.” She joked, but Mav shook his head.

“I don’t think so. You’ve met Rooster, you saw how he came out.”

“Yeah, I did. A damn good, stubborn, pain-in-the-ass pilot with a big heart, a great sense of humor, and someone who’s big on loyalty, friendship, and family. Seems to me like you did good there.”

Maverick smiled at hearing her describe Rooster, but he really couldn’t take the credit.

“That was all his mother.”

“The stubbornness came from you,” Metcalf muttered. “It’s contagious, I swear.”

Pete and Callie both ignored him. “Have you told Fritz yet?” Maverick asked, and she nodded. “I told him yesterday, he wants to do a gender reveal on base when I find out in a few weeks.”

Concern grew on Pete’s face as he imagined Billy Avalone’s idea of a gender reveal.

Colorful.

Loud.

Dangerous.

And very likely someone would end up in an emergency room.

“Tell him he’s not allowed to strap colored smoke bombs to a fighter jet and buzz the base tower,” Pete warned, and she laughed, imagining that scenario.

“He would do something with explosives, wouldn’t he?” She giggled, and Maverick nodded exasperatedly.

“He’s an…enthusiastic WSO. But no explosives.” Pete said, before amending the statement. “No explosives on base or within 20 feet of people at the time of detonation.”

Fritz had to have some fun after all.

“I’ll make sure to tell him you said that, sir.” Halo grinned before standing up. “Anyways, sorry again about this whole mess, but I’m technically on leave only for the rest of the day, so, if you’ll excuse me, my father-in-law needs to take me shopping before the stores all close for the night.” She grinned, side-eyeing Viper, who looked like he was regretting his existence.

“Go wild,” Pete grinned, standing as well. “And make sure to get something on me, from me and Ice, for the baby.”

“You got it Mav. Thanks.” She smiled, before marching out of the office.

Viper turned around to glance at Maverick, before looking back at the door his daughter-in-law had just exited from. “I’m starting to think the stubbornness didn’t even start with you. Duke was a stubborn pain in the ass too.”

Maverick snorted. “I’ve heard. The thing is, Viper, apples don’t fall far from the tree, so keep in mind that that baby she’s carrying? I’m willing to bet money on them being exactly like their mother.”

As a look of terror crossed Viper’s face, Callie popped her head back inside the office. “Baba, let’s go. You’re driving, and I want ice cream.”

“I’m doomed, aren’t I?” Viper asked, resigned.

“Now you know why I was on her side. When it comes to our kids, always.” Pete grinned, watching the two go, before picking up his cell phone, ready to call his husband and tell him their impromptu family was about to get a little bit bigger.

And then call Fritz. Because he was not going to have Lemoore destroyed all for a baby shower.

Later that night, after Pete had regaled, and possibly re-enacted the very scene that had occurred in his office earlier that day to his husband, making them both laugh, the doorbell rang.

Pete smiled, figuring who would be at the door, and waved his husband off, greeting Callie the minute he laid eyes on her. Now dressed in loose-fitting civvies, you wouldn’t have been able to tell that she was twelve weeks pregnant. Inviting her inside, Pete offered her a drink, and she gratefully accepted the idea of hot chocolate, despite the fact it was nearly 90 degrees outside.

“So, twelve weeks…that puts you due in what, mid-November?” Pete frowned, trying to do the math in his head.

“The expected due date is November 10^th, but late deliveries run in my family. My mom carried me for forty-two weeks.” Pete let out an impressed whistle, and she grinned as he handed her a steaming mug.

“So…you excited for this?” Pete asked. Her expression faltered, and on a dime, Pete’s instincts were hackled.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, and she froze, staring at him in shock.

“Nothing. Why?” She tried to cover.

“Because something’s telling me that something’s wrong. And you can talk to me.” Pete emphasized, leaning towards her.

She sighed. “Why were you on my side, earlier today?” She asked, finally. Pete frowned and tilted his head. She elaborated.

“Earlier today, Mike came to you because you two have a history, a connection. But you didn’t care. You were on my side, the whole time, and I…I don’t understand why?”

“Because it’s your choice? You’re the one serving, you’re carrying the baby, you have the right to carry yourself as you, and your doctors seem fit.” Pete said, confused.

“But you could have done him the favor. You didn’t.” She emphasized.

“I couldn’t have.” Pete doubled down. “That genuinely is not my call, and I am not interested in stepping out of those bounds. I’ve done that once before, with drastic consequences, and it did more harm than good. And as much as I respect and admire Viper, what he was asking didn’t do anything to convince me the good would be a payout, since it would have been entirely at your expense.”

She opened her mouth to say something, a soft look of realization on her face, but no words emerged. “Oh.” She said quietly, looking down at her mug.

“What’s going on, Halo?”

“Alex and I are fighting. He thinks I’m making the wrong choice and said his father was entirely in the right for asking you what he did.” She admitted, and Pete let out a knowing grunt.

“Take it from someone who’s acted the way your husband and father-in-law did. Making an emotional choice by deliberately manipulating the system in an attempt to protect a loved one from their own choices doesn’t turn out well. You saw the aftermath of that, between me and Rooster. That lasted for fifteen years, and it nearly destroyed us both. I wasn’t going to facilitate similar circumstances for you, and frankly, Viper should have known that before he even asked.”

“Yeah, shit. I didn’t even think about that. You guys are in such a better place now, I forgot how much tension there had been between you two in those early days.” She murmured, eyes unfocusing.

“And then there’s the small matter of you deserving to have someone in your corner from the get-go,” Pete said casually, making Callie do a double-take while he sipped his own hot chocolate.

“What do you mean by that?” She asked.

“Looking back, what Rooster had needed from me back when things went down between us, was support more than anything else. He didn’t need nor want someone who could intervene and protect him. He had to grow and evolve on his own terms, but he should have had someone to fall back on when things got bad. The same applies to the rest of you, and I learned from my mistake late, but not too late. I can support him now, and I plan to support the rest of you. You’re all family, you deserve it.”

Callie was speechless, staring at Pete with wide eyes that were starting to shimmer. “Goddamnit Pops.” She stood up, briskly swiping at her face as she launched herself into him. “I’m crying because I’m pregnant, okay? There’s no other reason.”

Pete laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “Of course. And if you need me to give that husband of yours a talking to, I’ll do it. I’m getting real good at that.”

“I’m sure you can have that opportunity. But I plan to guilt trip him first and use a few other manipulation tactics to get him to see the error of his ways. You gave me some ideas with Baba earlier, I wanna execute them myself.” She said, extracting herself from the hug.

“Damn, Omaha was right.” She whispered. “Talking to you is cathartic as fuck.” Pete snorted.

“I’m glad I could help. But seriously, aside from the issue at hand, are you excited for the baby?” Pete asked.

With teary eyes, Callie looked down at her own stomach, before wrapping her arms around herself. She then looked back up, a grin slowly growing on her face.

“Yeah, Mav. I can’t wait.”

Pete smiled. "Good. Then I hope you don't mind me saying, I'm really excited for you too."

"Thanks, Mav. I hope the others get excited too." She placed her hand on her stomach, resting it just above her navel.

"Oh, I think they'll be ecstatic!" Pete promised.

And as it turned out, he was right. 

Chapter Text

Pete couldn't help but notice the suspiciously empty arrivals gate at LaGuardia Airport, even for this time in the morning, but if he was being totally honest with himself, he knew EXACTLY why it was empty; the power of superstition, was, after all, a powerful thing. Being in the military, and just being a closed-off person in general, Pete subscribed to many superstitions. Always step onto a boat with your right foot, don’t take pictures with your plane before you fly, and always touch the nose of your jet, among others.

But the one that he always refused to subscribe to, the one he couldn’t care less for: don’t fly today, today being September 11^th.

As for why he was in New York City, on today, of all days? Well, that had to do with no small amount of coordination and planning between him and one Brigham Lennox.

Two weeks prior…

It was very late in the afternoon, and Pete was still stuck at work sorting through the massive amount of papers that had accumulated on his desk, and Pete could feel himself on the cusp of a headache. Pain was already leaking from his neck, and every single nerve in his body was telling him to get up and go home, but he couldn’t. Not without making some significant progress here first.

Resigned, Pete settled for taking a five-minute break to go search for some coffee and had just leaned back in his chair when his cell phone rang. Picking up the device, Pete had expected to see his husband’s caller id but was pleasantly surprised to see a picture of Brigham instead on the screen.

“Hey, Harvard, what’s up?” Pete asked, cracking his neck as if to relieve some of the tension in his back. God, he was getting too old for this.

“Hey, Mav. I uh, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?” Brigham asked nervously, his voice betraying his emotional state.

“Depends,” Maverick frowned. “What’s the favor? Because if it involves talking to the military police or NCIS, the answer is not tonight.”

“What,” Brigham asked, chuckling in surprise. “Why is that your default response? No, no one got arrested, or is in any trouble, I promise. Uh, it’s Logan, actually.”

Now it was Pete’s turn to be surprised. Yale? “What about Logan?” He asked.

“Uh, he’s upset, right now. And I’m hoping you can help him.” Brigham asked, and concern flooded Pete’s system.

“Why’s he upset? What’s going on? Can I talk to him?” Pete rapidly fired the questions, before pausing, realizing he needed to maintain his composure.

He couldn’t help Yale if he didn’t let Harvard explain anything.

“He got a call from his dad today. The two of them normally have this family tradition, that they do every year on the anniversary of his mom’s death, but this year his dad can’t make it. Or rather, won’t.”

“Won’t?” Pete mouthed, waiting for Harvard to continue.

“And Logan’s upset because that means he’ll be doing the tradition by himself, and I don’t think that’s fair, but I was wondering if you’d go to New York with him, so he wouldn’t be alone?”

Pete blinked. “Sure, if he wants me to come, but why New York? What’s the tradition?”

Pete couldn’t see it, but on the other end of the line, Brigham bit his lip, hesitating. “The tradition is to visit the 9/11 memorial. Mav, Logan’s mom died in the Towers.”

So now Pete was in New York, walking through the main lobby, at 0200 hours, where he saw Logan Lee sitting idle in his car in the pickup lane. Logan hadn’t seen him yet, but as Pete approached the vehicle, he knocked on the passenger window, startling the younger pilot.

Logan immediately jumped out of the car, greeting Maverick with a hug. “Hey Mav, it’s been a minute!”

“Yale, good to see you!” Maverick grinned, squeezing him. “You still okay with this?” Pete asked, before gesturing back to the airport with his head. “I can still turn around and get on another flight, I don’t want you to feel like I’m intruding or anything.”

The smile on Logan’s face diminished. “No, I…I’m really glad you’re here Mav.” He said weakly, looking down at the ground.

Letting out a long exhale, Maverick put his hands on Logan’s shoulders, getting the other man to look back up at him. “Then I’m glad to be here.” Pete emphasized. “Shall we?”

And just like that, the two of them were off, driving through the streets of New York City, and Pete couldn’t help but admire the soft beauty of the city at night, as it truly was never asleep. Lights still shone out of buildings, reminding him of stars as he looked up at the imposing facades.

And then that’s when the brightest lights of all caught his eye. Turning on to the Williamsburg Bridge, Pete swallowed as two bright columns shone up into the clouds, illuminating the skyline, representing the absence of the monolith buildings that had once stood in its place. In truth, he had never seen this before in person and found himself overcome by the powerful symbolism. But Maverick said nothing, choosing to glance over at Logan instead, who was gripping so tightly to the steering wheel his knuckles were pale, eyes resolutely locked on the road ahead.

Even at the smallest hours of the morning, traffic was still a nightmare, so by the time they actually reached the memorial itself, the faintest hints of dawn were just starting to illuminate the horizon. Yale parked nearby, and the two of them walked towards the memorial, where barricades for public protection were in place, patrolled by local authorities. It struck Pete at that moment how quiet it was. For Lower Manhattan, he had expected there to be a fair bit of ambient noise, traffic, music, even the sound of voices or water nearby. But it was almost like the city itself was holding the silence, out of respect for the events being recognized.

Passing the barricades, it took Logan almost no time at all to locate his mother’s name, and Pete held back a short distance, giving the younger man a moment to himself, watching as the pads of the pilot’s fingers brushed over the carved letters. But even from a distance, Pete could see the moment that Logan started crying. Closing the gap between the two of them, Pete pulled Logan into a one-armed hug, which quickly turned into a full embrace, glancing at the name for a brief moment.

 Jung-Hwa Lee

“Could you tell me about her?” Pete asked softly. It took Logan a moment, but the younger man, still trembling in his arms slowly shook his head. Pete was fully-prepared for that answer, he couldn't blame Logan for not wanting to talk about her. But then Logan pulled away and started to speak anyways.

“I was four when she died. Even what I do remember, it’s not enough to share.” Logan said hoarsely.

Pete found himself caught off-guard, having not factored Logan's age into account before. For Pete, he’d been on the cusp of turning 40 when 9/11 happened, stationed in Iraq at the time. He remembered the day clearly enough, ordered to return to base in the middle of practice maneuvers, only to come back to a silent airfield filled with dread and horror. To him, it really hadn't been that long ago. But Logan? Logan had grown up in the aftermath of that day, his personal story forever marked by it, his family destroyed by it, and Pete couldn’t help but stew in the subtle horror that he stood next to a 28-year-old who didn’t remember his mother.

“God, Logan, I…I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think…” Pete whispered, before looking around at the rest of the memorial. It was still dark outside, but the memorial was not empty. More and more people had started gathering, small clusters arranged around the massive structure, each of them, Pete assumed, here for the same reason they were. A firetruck was even parked nearby, accompanied by a group of firefighters who stood on the sidewalk, keeping their distance from the memorial itself, but still close enough to commiserate in the events that Pete figured some of them had actually lived through. Remembering the friends and colleagues they had lost. 

Taking all of this in, Pete found himself overwhelmed, totally struck by the true consequences of what this place represented, and he found himself resisting the selfish urge to drag Logan away, removing him from the negative atmosphere exuding from the ground beneath them. Never before had a memorial felt such like a grave, and Pete had been to too many memorials in his lifetime to know. And how could a grave still feel so fresh after twenty-four years?

“I used to come here with my dad, every year on the anniversary,” Logan said flatly, catching Pete’s attention. “He’d tell me the story of how he and my mom came to America from South Korea, she was a translator for a big international shipping company, they had offices here. I was only a baby at the time, and according to him, I had cried the whole way, making sure everyone on the plane knew how unhappy I was to be going to America. He used to say that in hindsight, the crying should have been a warning that they heeded. He nearly begged the State Department receptionist to deport us, because we were in the US on my mom’s work visa, but instead, we were granted citizenship to the US, and so we stayed here. I had to tell that story to my entire class when I studied counterterrorism at Yale, as part of my International Relations degree.”

“Why didn’t he come with you this year?” Pete asked.

Yale snorted. “Because after 24 years, he finally decided to move on, his words. He’s getting married in the spring, to a peppy kindergarten teacher only ten years older than me, and he said, he can’t grieve the past when he’s trying to embrace the future. Also, he doesn't want to hurt his fiancee's feelings by grieving his dead wife, despite the fact she insisted he should come today.”

“Ah,” Pete murmured, realizing he needed to formulate any response to that very carefully. “But for you, it’s not as easy to push away that grief.”

“No, it’s not!” Yale snapped, startling Pete. “I’ve spent pretty much my whole life in the shadow of this nightmare, and nobody could let me forget it. Never forget, and all that. Every year, without fail, it was recognized at school. Half-mast flags on base. And my dad. My dad has a picture of the New York skyline, with the towers still in them, he hung it in the entryway of our home, so it was the first thing everyone saw when they came into the house. He made sure we grieved for as long as possible. Y'know, when I joined the military, my dad was furious with me, despite the fact they were paying for the school he wanted me to go to, because he blamed the US government, and the military by extension? He didn’t talk to me for weeks, didn’t even move me into my college dorm, and the first time we talked after, the only reason he called me was so I could help him reset his wireless router. He never apologized for that, so I double majored in International Relations and Electrical Engineering, and became a pilot to spite him, because he didn’t like planes or flying anymore either.”

Pete listened to Logan rant, watching the younger man break down. “I did everything he ever asked of me,” Logan whimpered, tears running down his face. “I studied and worked hard to be the best at everything I did, the best student, honor roll, valedictorian, Dean’s list. I graduated with so many honors, I was wearing a rainbow of stoles and cords around my neck at both my high school and college graduations. Harvard and I were #1 and #2 together at TOPGUN! And yet, when I told him about the special detachment, about working with you, all I got from him was some bullshit line about when I would stop playing soldier and get a real job he could be proud of. So I don't understand how he can just walk away from all of that now, leaving me with all the trauma!”

Logan practically spat that last sentence out, and Pete internally flinched. He already had some choice words in mind for Logan’s father, but this was not the time or place for them.

“I’m not your father,” Pete said, stopping Logan in his tracks. The younger man flushed, looking anywhere but at Maverick, embarrassment coloring his face. “But I wish I could be,” Pete said, and Logan gasped softly, finally meeting his eyes. “Because then I could tell you that I am proud of you, not just for what you have done and achieved, but for who you are as a person, and that would mean more to you because of it. And I'm sorry that he did that to you, you didn't deserve it."

Logan’s face was wet with fresh tears. “Even though you aren’t my father, Mav, it does mean a lot to hear you say that. I’m sorry, I’m just dumping this all on you, and you didn’t ask for that, and I…”

“Hey, no. Don’t do that!” Pete cut him off, gathering Yale in a hug. “You absolutely do not need to apologize for that. I get it, I completely understand being upset about all of this, and I’m glad you felt comfortable enough around me to say it in the first place.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we have to dump our problems on you!” Yale argued, slightly mollified.

“Maybe not, but if you need someone to hear them in the first place, I’d happily volunteer all over again. It’s like I keep telling you kids, if you need me, I’m there. No matter what.”

Yale adopted a weak smile, swallowing harshly as he wiped the tears off his face with his sleeve. “Unless it’s dealing with military police or NCIS?”

Pete snorted, remembering the phone call he’d had with Harvard. “No, even then too. But that just takes a little longer than immediately to get involved.”

“Right, of course!” Logan said sarcastically, straightening himself out. “Fuck, there’s nothing quite like a morning breakdown, isn’t there?”

Pete gave him an incredulous look. “I’d say what on earth are you talking about, but I did lock myself in a bathroom on my wedding day, so…”

Logan laughed, before looking back at his mom’s name, carved on the memorial. “You know, my favorite part about coming here with my dad was that it was pretty much the one thing we could always agree on.” He said, his voice growing serious. “We never fought today, always came early to avoid the crowds, he’d say his bit, and we’d sit in the grief. I didn’t enjoy it, but at least it was something we did together. But after a while, it stopped feeling like it was about her, like it was just an excuse to be miserable, at least for my dad. But today, being here, it actually feels like my grief is meant to help me, does that make sense?”

“Sure,” Pete brushed his shoulder up against Logan’s. “Your dad was using this as a way to prolong his recovery until he found something else to help him deal with the loss. Whether or not he meant to, he hurt you in that process, and by extension, prolonged your own recovery as well. And while he also hurt you by breaking tradition today, I think doing this differently has also allowed you to find another way to deal with what you’ve experienced.”

Logan’s expression was a picture of realization and astonishment before acceptance dawned on his features. “Yeah, I…that makes sense, I guess. I did it my own way like I’ve always done.”

“But at the same time, you didn’t have to do it alone,” Pete added, and Logan smiled.

“No, I didn’t." Yale ruminated on that for a moment, before giving Pete a grateful look. "Thanks, Mav. I think it’s time I set some new traditions for myself instead. Maybe next year, I’ll come visit you in California instead?” His hopeful expression filled Pete with joy, and Pete couldn't deny him anything at that moment. 

“You’re always welcome,” Pete confirmed, and Yale grinned.

“Awesome. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Do you want something to eat?”

Pete sighed in relief, and his stomach rumbled right on cue. “Oh, hell yes. I think there’s a fast food restaurant down the street, breakfast burgers on me?”

“Let’s go!” Yale cheered, before brushing his fingers against the memorial once more, giving it a soft smile. And then the two of them walked away, the purpose of their day done just as the sun started to rise.

Chapter Text

Pete usually doesn’t make a habit of ignoring his phone. Doing so usually means getting lectured by someone about how he runs the risk of risking national security but surely ignoring one text message while eating dinner wouldn't be a problem, right? Besides, his argument was that matters of national security shouldn’t be discussed over a text message.

And then the second text came in. At first, Pete had assumed it was just his phone reminding him he’d gotten the text again, but a third ding finally caught his attention. Internally groaning, Pete looked down at his plate, so close to finishing the lasagna that Ice had made. Ice glanced at him from across the table, torn between annoyance and amusement as their time together was interrupted but also expected, after many years of experience in Pete’s position.

So, with a loud sigh, Pete put down his fork and picked up his phone, only to stiffen upon the realization that the texts were not, in fact, work-related.

Fritz: OPERATION BABY DROP IS A GO!

Fritz: Shit!

Fritz: That means Callie’s in labor!

Fritz: I don’t know what to do!

Pete’s entire body language changed, a grin lighting up his face. Just as he looked up to tell Ice the news, another text came in, dragging Pete’s eyes abruptly back to the screen.

Fritz: She asked me to be its godfather? How do I do that?

Maverick snorted and looked up at his ever-patient husband, who looked at him with a bemused, waiting stare.

“Well, what is it?” He asked, taking in Pete’s happy expression.

“Halo’s in labor. The baby’s coming, and she’s asked Fritz to be the godfather.”

Happiness dawned on Ice’s face, and soon enough his own expression was drawn into a grin that matched Pete’s. “It’s about time. Viper was complaining the other day that he was sure his wife hadn’t been pregnant as long as Callie had been.”

Maverick laughed. “Viper was deployed for most of his wife’s pregnancy. Callie, he deals with on a daily basis since he’s still trying to beg her forgiveness for that stunt he pulled. By now, I don’t know who’s more ready for this baby to come, him or Halo.”

Maverick’s phone dinged again, and Pete looked down, expecting to see more good news.

But it wasn’t.

Instead, what he saw instead made his heart drop.

Fritz: They’re taking her to do an emergency c-section! They won’t tell us what’s wrong.

Pete stiffened in his chair, imaginary klaxon alarms blaring in his head as every internal instinct he had started screaming. “There’s…there’s a problem, they’re taking her to do an emergency caesarian,” Pete said gravely. As his heartbeat picked up, Pete had to put the phone down because it was shaking so much that he couldn’t read the screen.

No, not his phone.

His hand.

Ice gasped, and stood up. “Go, I’ll call the other kids, see what’s going on, and you get to the hospital.”

Leaping away from the dinner table, Maverick quickly grabbed the essentials and rushed out the door, barely registering that he was breaking every single speed limit he could getting to the base. What should have been a four-hour drive turned into 2-and-a-half.

By the time he arrived at the hospital, he found Phoenix, Bob, Omaha, and of course Fritz already there. Pete had expected that.

What he hadn’t expected, what he’d hoped never to see, was all four of them looking absolutely terrified.

But the one that concerned him the most at that moment was Fritz, who was sitting on the floor of the waiting room, still in uniform, with a completely absent look on his face. His legs were splayed out in front of him, hands resting palm up on his thighs. His eyes were unfocused and bloodshot, with tears drying in salty streaks down the sides of his face.

He looked completely lifeless, the total opposite of his usual self.

Before Pete could even approach Fitz, Viper entered the room from a nearby set of double doors, expression totally unreadable. Making an internal call, Pete made a beeline for him, intent on finding out more.

“Mike, what happened? How’s Callie?” Pete asked, heart pounding in his chest.

“Oh, Maverick…I…she’s in surgery. They took her into surgery.” Viper muttered distractedly, looking just as dissociated as Fritz, and Pete’s heart continued to sink. Whatever had happened, whatever they’d seen, it must have been a lot to terrify the most competent, hardcore pilots he knew. A nurse followed Viper out with a concerned look on her face, only to lock her gaze on Maverick.

“I just wanted to check in, make sure he got sat down somewhere,” She said, glancing at Viper, and Pete nodded, nonverbally taking on the responsibility. He quickly guided Viper towards a nearby row of seats, gently pushing him into the closest one. The nurse followed them, and as soon as Pete was sure Viper was settled, he turned back to her.

“Can you tell me anything? I’m not…I’m not a relative or anything, but I’d like to try and understand what’s going on.” Pete asked, biting back the desire to demand answers. It wouldn’t help anyone right now if he lost his cool, no matter how scared he was.

The nurse glanced back at the double doors as if checking for something before looking back at Pete. “Do you have a military id on you, sir? Lieutenant Basset has a list of people she’s allowing information to be disclosed to. And I have a feeling, if you’re who I think you are, you’ll be on it.” She asked, and he nodded, pulling out his id.

She checked it with an efficient gaze, eyes lighting up in recognition before taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Admiral. Lieutenant Bassett was progressing normally through her first hour of labor when her pain level spiked, and she experienced an excessive amount of uterine bleeding. We quickly determined that she had experienced a placental abruption, and unfortunately, some tests showed that it was interfering with the baby’s oxygen supply. We had to take her to perform an emergency caesarian for both the baby’s safety and hers.”

With every word the pit in Pete’s stomach deepened, despite barely understanding half of it. “Is that a common complication? I…Will she be alright?”

The nurse nodded. “It occurs in roughly one percent of mothers. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot but consider how many people give birth every year, it happens more than you’d think. As for Lieutenant Bassett, our doctors are going to do everything they can to help her, and her baby. Her mother and husband are also with her, and I will make sure you get an update soon, sir.”

“What are her chances?” Maverick asked, and her expression faltered.

“I couldn’t really tell you that, sir, but I will say that based on the tests and the doctor’s surgical plan, providing there are no more complications, her prognosis seems good. I can’t make any promises though,” She emphasized, giving Maverick a harsh stare, and he nodded in understanding.

“Thank you,” Maverick said, before redirecting his attention back to Viper, who was swaying dangerously as he remained standing next to him. “I’m going to get him some water, and then talk to those kids over there. If there’s anything I can do, just ask.”

As she dismissed herself, Pete carried out exactly what he said he would, taking care of Viper, and then finally headed back over to the kids, who had finally seemed to register his arrival.

“Did they tell you anything, Mav?” Omaha muttered, breaking the silence, and Phoenix glanced over at him, listening.

“She’s still in surgery,” Maverick stated. “But the prognosis is looking better, the nurse said. We should have an update soon.” Omaha nodded, relaxing fractionally. Phoenix didn’t move, but the frown lines around her eyes shallowed slightly, and Bob let out a long exhale. Even Viper must have listened, because the man finally moved voluntarily, moving to sip at the water Pete had placed in his hands.

The only one who hadn’t seemed to process the update was Fritz, and so Pete sank down onto his haunches in front of the frozen pilot, trying to get his attention.

“Billy? Can you hear me, Fritz?”

Nothing. Not even the callsign got Billy to move.

Maverick waved a hand in front of Fritz’s face, going in for a second run. “Lieutenant Avalone.” Maverick gently placed said hand on Fritz’s shoulder. The use of the rank did the trick, and Fritz jumped, eyes dancing around wildly, before locking gaze with Pete. Maverick backed off slightly but remained within arm’s reach.

“Mav, Callie, she…” He began, new tears falling.

“I know,” Maverick shushed him. “She’s still in surgery, but the nurse said the prognosis is looking good. Viper just stepped out, and Alex and Callie’s mom are still inside. I just wanted to check in with you.”

“I’m fine, it’s Callie you should worry about!” Fritz insisted, eyes slipping back into an unfocused state, but Pete wouldn’t let that happen.

“Between the doctors, and just about everyone else in the building, Callie’s got enough people worrying about her right now. You, on the other hand, don’t, and you’re looking a little rough there. You wanna talk to me about it?” Maverick raised an eyebrow, deliberately phrasing that last question to make it sound more like a request than an invitation.

Fritz remained silent, eyes slipping down to the floor. “I just…Things went wrong too fast. She was happy, just breathing away there in the bed, excited to be getting her epidural thingy…she and Alex had just asked me to be the baby’s godfather, but before I could even say yes, a look of panic crossed her face, and you know Callie, she doesn’t panic, does she Mav? And she started making these noises…like she was in a lot of pain, y’know? A nurse noticed and pulled back the sheets, and her lap…god, Mav, there was a puddle of blood right there under her stomach. Callie, she looked so scared! She started screaming, the nurse started shouting, the doctors all came running, and then they were dragging her away, and no one was telling us anything. They left Alex standing there, and someone had to come back for him, Mav. It all happened so fast…” Fritz trailed off, looking up at Maverick.

“I don’t know what to do.” He whispered, before breaking down sobbing. “She’s one of my best friends, and I can’t…I can’t help her! I can’t do anything!”

“That’s not true, Billy,” Maverick whispered. “You’re doing something right now. You’re here, standing at the ready to give her the love, support, and comfort she’s going to need after this. And when that doctor walks through those doors to tell us we can see her, and her baby, you’ll have more things to do; like hold her hand, and be with her while she recovers. You’ll get to kick Alex’s ass up to get her whatever food she wants, and then after this is over, you become the godfather that that kid deserves. That’s how to help her.”

“What does that even mean?” Fritz snapped, eyes blazing. “A godfather’s just the spare parent, right? What the hell do I know about being a parent and taking care of a kid?” No one in the room missed Fritz’s voice crack. “Besides, it’s not like the baby’s losing Alex too!”

“Don’t say that!” Phoenix snarled, distracting both Fritz and Mav. “No one’s losing anybody. Halo will be fine!”

“Being a godfather is not just about being there when the baby’s parents can’t,” Pete said gently, bringing Fritz’s attention back to him, soothing the elevated tension in the room, gesturing to Phoenix to take it down a notch.

“Being the godfather means taking so many pictures of that perfect little family, that you ensure no one ever misses a moment. It means sticking around to watch that kid grow up, babysitting when they need a break, being the village that they need to raise a child, and being the role model to them that you’d wished to have yourself when you were growing up. It’s not just about being a parent in the absence of theirs, it’s about being another adult who gives a damn.”

Pete’s voice didn’t crack, it didn’t, but now Fritz was looking at him with wide, glossy eyes. “That’s what being a godfather means, Fritz. You’re there to teach them, love them, protect them, and leave the lights on when they fly away. Callie thinks you can do that. Alex thinks you can do that. And I think you can do that. Do you think you can do that?”

Fritz gulped and nodded. Slowly, he stopped shaking, and shifted, bringing his legs underneath him as if trying to stand. And stand he did, as Maverick helped him up off of the ground, making sure to steady him as they climbed to their feet. Pete barely had time to register that at some point, the rest of the Dagger squad, as they had now dubbed themselves, had all arrived, and Rooster was giving him an emotion-filled look before Alex Metcalf entered the room.

Pete had only met Halo’s husband, Viper’s youngest son, a handful of times. Disqualified from being a pilot like his father due to hereditary vision issues on his mother’s side, Alex Metcalf was a radar technician with the Navy instead and had literally met his future wife through the comms system. As such, working on computers inside all day did little for the man’s complexion, so when he entered, Pete genuinely couldn’t tell if he was pale because of what had happened to his wife, or if he was just like that.

But they didn’t have to wait in suspense, because as soon as Alex spotted them, adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, a grin split his face in two.

“The surgery was a success. The baby was recovered and is doing well, and Callie’s in post-op, sleeping off her anesthetic. She’ll be awake in a few hours.”

Pete breathed a sigh of relief, echoed by many others in the room, and he turned back towards Fritz, who was standing stock still in shock. “Fritz?” Pete whispered, his gut telling him that he needed to reach out.

And it was correct because the minute the word left Pete’s lips, Fritz’s knees gave out, and the younger man stumbled, nearly tumbling to the floor if Pete hadn’t caught him. “Hey, whoa, she’s okay. She’s okay, and the baby’s okay.”

“I…I know. I heard.” Fritz muttered, trying to pull his feet back underneath him. Finally, the pilot got himself situated and managed to process the shock his system had experienced. “She’s okay.”

Pete smiled and nodded in affirmation. “Yeah, she’s okay.”

“Hey, Maverick.” Viper called out, having at some point moved towards his son and engaged him in conversation. “Bring Fritz with you, and follow us.”

Pete knitted his eyebrows together, confused, but Billy had clearly caught on to whatever was happening, and Maverick found himself being dragged along by the pilot, along with Alex and Viper through the double doors, and down a series of long corridors until they found themselves at a window.

Pete stopped short, realizing what this was, and looked through the glass, spotting the single baby lying in the allocated area.

Halo’s baby.

“Would you look at that?” Pete smiled, nudging Viper with his shoulder. “You’re a grandpa now.”

Viper snorted. “Yep. Grandpa to a beautiful, healthy baby boy.”

It occurred to Pete at that moment that until then, he hadn’t actually known the sex of the baby in question. Halo and Alex had opted against having a gender reveal in the end, having shot down many of Fritz’s ideas for such a celebration, including taking a page from Pete’s book by stealing a jet and bombing a target, which would explode with the color assigned to the sex of the baby. Pete had certainly appreciated the couple’s restraint against such an idea.

“Wow. Have you gotten a name sorted out yet?” Pete asked Alex, who was still staring softly at the baby in the cot.

“Yes, but Callie would kill me if I told you without her. She wanted to tell people herself.” Alex said, a touch of smugness coloring his voice as disappointment overcame the three other men present.

“Speaking of Callie…” A new voice interrupted, and the group realized they had been joined by the nurse from earlier, accompanied by an older woman, whom Pete briefly recognized as Callie’s mother. “…she’s awake and asking for visitors.”

“Damn, I thought she wouldn’t be awake for a while yet.” Viper muttered.

“Pshh…you’ve met my daughter? Stubborn as a mule that one, even with drugs.” Mrs. Basset snapped, poking Viper in the stomach. “And language. I will not have you corrupting my grandchild with that sailor’s tongue of yours.”

“For the last time, I was not a sailor, I was a pilot.” Viper said exasperatedly, but Mrs. Basset paid him no attention. Pete internally sniggered and looked over at Fritz, who had now completely relaxed and adopted a smile on his face, eyes still glued to the baby.

“Fritz. C’mon. We’re going to see Callie.” Pete called, and Fritz startled, before registering what Maverick had said, and dashed after the group.

The nurse guided them towards a nearby room, where Callie Basset was lying alert, looking washed out and tired, but happy to see them. “Hey, guys! Hi mama!” She greeted them.

“Cali, do me a favor. Don’t ever scare me like that again, unless you feel like changing my diaper too, okay?” Fritz pleaded, making a beeline for his best friend. Callie wrinkled her nose in disgust, but laughed and nodded.

“Deal. Have you seen the baby yet?” She asked, eyes hopeful.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Alex said, settling on the side of her bed. “He’s all bundled up and snoozing in the nursery.”

“It’s a boy?” Callie asked, delight lighting up her face. Alex nodded, and her eyes flitted over toward Pete.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Alex asked, glancing around at their assembled family, taking a hold of his wife’s hand. She smiled.

“Yeah. We’ve decided on a name.” She announced, her eyes sparkling. “We have decided to name our son Peter William Metcalf, Pete for short, after the three people I want our baby to look up most to in the world; his dad, my wingman, and the best teacher, CO, and pilot I have ever known.” Callie’s eyes zeroed in on Pete, as her announcement dawned on him.

Peter.

Pete for short.

She’d named the baby after him.

She’d named HER BABY after him.

Tears sprung to Pete’s eyes as the full weight of what was happening dawned on him. “Halo, I…thank you, but are you…”

“We’re very sure.” Alex cut him off, and Pete did a double-take. “I know I don’t know you very well, sir, but from what I’ve heard from Halo, Fritz, my dad, and dozens of other people during my time in the service, you’re not just a hero. You’re the best of us. You embody the core values of the institution that runs our lives, but more importantly, you prioritize the lives of the people within it. With all that said, we couldn’t think of a better person to name our son after.”

Maverick’s chest felt tighter and tighter with each word, and by the end of Alex’s speech, he wasn’t breathing at all. “I…thank you. Thank you both so much. I’m honored.”

“Besides, it seemed fitting after all. The kid was almost as much a pain in my ass as you were. It truly did seem fitting.” Halo sniped, and the gravity in the room snapped. Pete couldn’t help it. He just started laughing, and it was so infectious that everyone joined in.

Later that day, after everyone had been by to see Halo, and she herself had gotten to show off her baby, Pete loitered in the hallway outside Callie’s hospital room, as one of the last people still there. Only Fritz outlasted him, who had opted to stay with Callie while Alex drove his dad and mother-in-law home for the night.

Through the door, Pete could see Fritz, who was now cradling the baby, all wrapped up in a soft blanket that someone had given Callie as a gift covered in fighter jets, with the softest expression Pete had ever seen on the younger man’s face.

“Psst, hey Mav?” Fritz whispered, realizing Pete was watching him. Pete approached and realized that Callie had managed to fall asleep in the room, even with the lights on and people still around.

“Yeah, what’s up Fritz?” Pete whispered back.

“I think the name’s pretty appropriate too,” Fritz said earnestly, and goddamnit, Pete was not going to cry again, despite the burning sensation emanating from his eyes.

“Thank you, Billy,” Pete said, and Fritz turned his attention back to the baby, who was soundly asleep.

“Hey, Mav?”

“Yeah?”

“That thing you said earlier about being a godfather? Do you think you could give me some more pointers? I want to learn from the best after all.”

At some point, Pete eventually did answer him with an affirmative, even though there had been a large pause because he did, in fact, cry again.

Chapter Text

On the eve of his third wedding anniversary, Pete Mitchell watched in soft contentedness as he and Ice hosted the biggest party they'd had since their wedding day. It was a large affair, with all the pilots, WSOs, and their families invited from across the country. The timing had worked out perfectly, with everyone enjoying Thanksgiving in their own homes and then coming out to celebrate.

Nursing a beer, he scanned the garden that Ice had had professionally decorated, seeing everyone engaged in conversation. The children from Payback's family ran around in delight, brandishing sparklers and glow sticks, working off a sugar high from the Texas-sized jellybeans one of Hangman's sisters had brought while Fritz supervised. Bob kept glancing over nervously at Phoenix and his sister, who were getting along swimmingly. Two-week-old baby Pete was at the center of attention, currently being regaled with a retelling of a Star Trek film about whales from Fanboy. Hangman was exchanging stories with Ice, both of them sat comfortably on the patio with drinks in hand. And Rooster…

Rooster was alone.

Without even thinking about it, Maverick was making a beeline for his godson, who had managed to seclude himself on the edge of the garden, watching the party much in the same manner that Pete was. And as Pete got closer, he realized something was off.

"You're not usually one for the sidelines," Pete commented casually, not missing the minuscule double-take Rooster did at being caught off-guard.

"Yeah, I know. I'll get back to being the center of attention in a minute." Rooster said distractedly. "You know how it is. It's exhausting being the life of the party all the time."

“Mmm.” Pete nodded, not fooled for a minute. Something was definitely bothering Rooster.

"What's going on Bradley?"

"What do you mean?" Bradley asked, trying to feign a tone of nonchalance while sipping his beer. And then Bradley's gaze abruptly shifted from Mav to Jake. Pete said nothing and just stared knowingly at Rooster.

It took five seconds for Bradley to break. "Okay, I…is there someplace we can talk?"

“Sure. C'mon." Pete knew that with a house full of people, privacy was rare, but there were some spaces he and Ice had closed off before everyone arrived. Following Maverick through the house, Bradley casually took note of the odd details that signified Pete and Tom's different ideas in interior design; Ice's preference for fine art contrasted with the numerous pictures and posters that Mav had framed and hung, and Mav's minimalistic furniture standing out amongst Ice's traditional styling.

The two of them had blended their personalities into the home that they had made together.

But there was one room that was exclusively all Mav's: The garage.

Bradley had loved being in Mav's garage as a kid. Whenever he was frustrated by something, or upset by something, and Maverick was in town, Pete had always come to pick him up, and the two of them would spend the day fixing the odd project or two Mav had going on in the base housing garage. The radio would be on, and the fridge would be stocked with cold drinks. Beer for Mav, and root beer for Bradley.

And while over the years the garages had changed, base after base, the tradition stuck on. A half-disassembled motorcycle stood in the middle of the floor, surrounded by tool boxes, and mats. The radio stood proudly on the sidebar, and Bradley would bet all the money in his wallet that if he opened the fridge, it would be fully stocked with beer and root beer, even though Bradley could now drink the beer.

"So what's on your mind, Roo?" Pete asked, pulling out a pair of stools. He kicked one over in Bradley's direction, and then sat on the other, waiting for Rooster to get comfortable.

"Jake." Rooster said, and Maverick just raised an eyebrow.

"Anything specific about him, or just him in general?" Mav asked, his voice taking on a teasing lilt. Rooster blushed and looked down, fiddling with his hands.

"I want to ask him to marry me." Rooster said it so quietly, Pete almost didn't hear him.

Almost.

"What? Wow, that's amazing!" Pete said, a grin splitting his face in two. But Rooster didn't grin back. Instead, his expression only fell.

"But I'm not sure we're ready for it."

"What makes you think that?" Pete asked, hiding his surprise. Their relationship had lasted as long as Pete's marriage. Getting married on their own would have been the logical next step to Pete.

"I…part of me feels like our relationship got put on hold, after the accident? And I'm not…I don't hold what happened against him or anything, but it feels like we didn't get enough time to be us before we went…before he went through the crash and the aftermath." Bradley admitted, abruptly correcting himself, which was a detail that Pete couldn't help but latch onto. "And I'm worried that while being so busy learning how to accommodate his injuries and the loss of his career, we weren't given the chance to grow as a couple, or even as individuals. And if we haven't, are we even ready to get married?"

Pete nodded, listening intently to what Bradley was saying, before thinking about what to say himself. "I think that could be a valid concern, but I am going to ask, do you not think that the two of you grew and evolved both as people and as a couple BECAUSE you went through the accident?"

Bradley shrugged. "If we did, I don't really see it."

"I do," Pete said, catching Rooster's attention.

"I remember the way you two were before the mission, Jake especially! A confident, cocky pilot with an inflated amount of self-preservation and a disregard for incompetency. And you, the closed-off overthinker that shut people out and drove people away because you'd been let down too many times by the ones you should have been able to lean on for support. Whether you saw it or not, that mission changed you both. Hangman learned that being the best wasn't always the only way to get the validation he wanted, and you got the opportunity to prove yourself under pressure and get closure for something that had been weighing on you heavily."

Rooster snorted, but let Maverick continue.

"And then the two of you got together, and I think it actually did you both a lot of good. Hangman learned how to depend on other people, and you learned how to be vulnerable around the people you cared about. You went from two people that constantly butted heads and competed to two people that worked together to be an unstoppable force." Maverick paused, taking a breath. "And the accident put both of you, and those lessons to the test. But on the day of the accident, sure you regressed back into that closed-off person, but then you opened up to me and Jake's sisters, and you let yourself ask for the support you needed, and you were able to support Jake all the better for it."

Bradley's lips parted open in a mixture of realization and surprise, but Pete still wasn't done. "And then there was Jake. Do you remember that I was there when he woke up for the first time? And I told you that I'd told him about his condition?"

Rooster nodded. "Yeah." He rasped.

"I told you he hadn't taken it well at first, but that he'd eventually calmed down. Well, that had been a bit of an understatement. He had freaked out when I'd started talking to him. Tried to rip the bandages off. Tried to get up. He lashed out, and rightly so." Pete recalled. Rooster frowned and glanced towards the kitchen, to where Jake was as if subconsciously wanting to reach his lover and comfort him.

 "I remember one phrase he said particularly clearly. 'I don't want help, I don't need it! I'll get through this myself!'. And then, I made a mistake. I had started moving, planning to call a nurse if I remember correctly, but because of the bandages, he couldn't see. He'd heard me move, and thought I was leaving, like he'd asked, to let him deal with it alone. And the look of devastation that crossed his face…that was the minute I knew he was not the same person he was when I'd met him. Because a minute later, his biggest priority wasn't even himself. It was you."

"What do you mean?" Bradley asked, entranced by the story.

"I baited him into a conversation, talking about the silver linings, to get him off focusing on being medically discharged, and the topic of the two of you being together came up. He began thinking about all of the things he would be able to do with you providing he wasn't in the military anymore. And despite being in all that pain, clouded with all that uncertainty, he smiled." Pete said, and Bradley's mouth fully dropped open.

"There isn't a doubt in my mind he wouldn't be where he is today because of you, Bradley. He's happy, stable, and getting healthier by the day, He's got a job lined up as a commercial airline pilot, and the two of you are comfortably cohabitating together. You had to change to get there, and while it may not seem like a lot, it's…Hey, Ice!" Pete cut himself off after noticing that his husband had opened the garage door, and was giving the two of them an exasperated look.

"Sorry to bother bonding time, but we've just cracked open the wine, and I don't think I can host an anniversary toast without you." Ice said, and Pete sighed internally. He really needed to finish this conversation with Rooster, but he couldn't neglect their guests.

Pete shot Bradley an apologetic look, but Bradley had already put on a mask of enthusiasm and marched out the door. Concern shot through Pete, but he followed his husband back through the house, only to come to an abrupt halt as Rooster stopped short, blocking the doorway to the back garden.

"Bradley, are you…" Pete began to ask, before realizing what had made Rooster freeze in his tracks.

There, knelt in the middle of the lawn, surrounded by their guests, was Jake, kneeling down on one knee, with an open ring box in his hand.

Pete's expression fell into pure shock, and it took a lot of self-control not to whip around and stare at Bradley. Instead, he just subtly turned his head to look at Rooster, who just stared back at Hangman with a stunned expression.

"Bradley Bradshaw. I had a whole argument with myself the other day about whether or not to do this tonight, because I didn't want to be rude and take the attention off of our gracious hosts, out of fear of being made to do more pushups," The assembled pilots and WSOs laughed. "But I found myself losing that argument since it's our anniversary too, with my heart winning out in the end. I can't ever tell you how grateful I am for the love and support you have given me, through the good times, and the bad, but I can say with absolute certainty that I want you in my life for however long you'll have me; as my wingman, as my partner, and as my husband. Bradley Bradshaw, will you do me that honor, of marrying me?"

Pete was impressed. Hangman had always been a smooth talker, regardless of what he was saying, but he'd never imagined something that sappy could be said with such confidence. Next to him, Rooster choked out a sob mixed with a laugh, and slowly approached the blond.

"Yes." Bradley choked out, rushing towards his fiancé, practically tumbling to his knees to tackle Jake into an embrace, both of them grinning like absolute idiots. Everyone cheered, and Maverick felt his husband's arms snake around his waist, pulled into his own embrace. But he still had one more thing to say.

"Hey, Hangman!" Pete called out, grabbing the young pilot's attention. Jake looked over, expression still filled with joy. "You look good!"

Jake grinned, and pulled Bradley into a deep kiss, before pulling away and calling back. "I am good, Mav. I'm very good!"

Later, after multiple rounds of toasting, and raucous celebration, most of their guests left for the night in jovial spirits, leaving the two couples alone in the house. Rooster and Ice were conversing happily in the kitchen, preparing a late-night snack for the four of them, while Pete was left alone with Hangman, who was absentmindedly rubbing the middle of his thigh, right over the point that had been crushed in the accident.

"That was some speech tonight," Pete commented, giving Jake a sly grin.

"Thanks. I practiced it a couple of times." Jake teased, before taking on a bashful look. "Uh, I know it's traditional to ask for blessings before the proposal, but…"

"But you already have it." Pete cut him off, not missing the look of surprise on Jake's face.

“Mav, I…”

"You know, I don't think I ever properly thanked you for saving Rooster and my's lives that day on the mission? If it hadn't been for you, we might not have been here, and I would never have had this. I wouldn't be celebrating my wedding anniversary or Rooster's engagement. I would have never gotten the chance to have him back in my life, or rather, be back in his. I'm forever going to be indebted to you for that. And while I would never claim to be responsible for this, having had the opportunity to see you grow as a person from that experience and forward has made me very proud of the man you are today. So how could you not have my blessing?"

Hangman sucked in his cheeks, trying to hide the emotional wave that came over him after hearing Maverick's words, and he nodded, processing the weight behind them. "Thank you, sir."

Pete glared, and Hangman chuckled. "Sorry." Pete didn't think he was sorry at all. "Thank you, Maverick."

"You're welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure my husband isn't conspiring to plan your whole wedding with that fiancé of yours before we get fed, because they're taking forever." Pete said. Hangman laughed and waved the older man on, and Pete got up, walking over to the kitchen where he indeed found Ice asking about what Rooster would like for the wedding.

"He's been engaged for less than four hours!" Pete laughed, noticing Rooster's overwhelmed expression. "Let him process that first before he starts planning a wedding."

Ice rolled his eyes. "If it had been up to you, you would have been processing our engagement from the time I proposed to the day we got married, and if he's anything like you, which he is by the way," Ice gave Pete a hard stare which was met in turn with a lazy, bemused look. "…there would be no wedding planned. You've got to start early."

"That may be, but you're not going to make him start planning on an empty stomach, are you?" Pete raised an eyebrow, and Ice huffed, looking at the quiches that had been popped in the oven, still warming up, and the charcuterie board that still was in the middle of being prepared.

“No. Fine. Take him away, and send me Jake, so I can interrogate him instead."

"I don't think…" Pete protested, but Rooster shrugged.

“Will do. Thanks, Ice." Bradley said, practically dragging Pete out of the room, and pushing a very confused Hangman into it instead.

Alone, Pete gave Rooster a side glance, only to be met with a sheepish expression. "So, uh…I guess I didn't have to worry after all?" Bradley said. "Because he was ready?"

"What can I say? You still overthink things sometimes." Pete said, and Rooster snorted. "But it was okay to be worried about it at the time, and verbalize those fears so that you could address them."

"Yeah," Bradley said, before looking back at the kitchen with a soft smile. "I can't believe he beat me to the proposal, though."

"You would be the only one who thought you'd propose first then," Pete said, and Rooster looked at him in shock.

"I was talking to you about proposing to him, and you still thought he'd propose first?"

"Up until that conversation, yeah? I'll admit, I began reconsidering that stance back in the garage, but then…" Pete gestured wildly with his hand and Rooster sighed defeatedly.

"Okay, okay, I get your point. In that case, I guess I have another question for you then."

"And what's that?" Pete asked, sighing in relief as Ice and Hangman emerged from the kitchen with food.

"Will you walk me down the aisle?"

Maverick's pure expression of shock followed by the wince of intense whiplash as he abruptly turned back to stare at Bradley was a source of amusement for the rest of the family for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

The thing Maverick loves most about flying is that when he’s in the air, he feels most in control of the world around him. Yes, there was the thrill and the adrenaline that contributed to that, but being higher than the clouds, physically separated from the ground just had a way of giving him a broader perspective.

To him, life is just easier when you’re on top of the world.

But there’s a point while making a descent when the pressure changes and the weight of the world just falls back on your shoulders.

That was how Pete felt right now. Reeling…overwhelmed…out of control. And looking over at his husband, Pete could see the same feelings on Ice’s face, if not also mixed with resigned devastation and pure exhaustion.

Everything Pete would expect from a man who had just been told his cancer had come back.

Cancer that would require extremely aggressive treatment to avoid becoming terminal.

Neither of them said anything, both of them barely resisting the urge to utterly shut down as the doctor listed some options, and handed Ice a stack of papers and pamphlets to peruse, before giving Pete a couple of items as well, outlining support groups and techniques for spouses of cancer patients.

And then it was time to leave.

Leaving the clinic, Pete tried to ignore the sympathetic looks of the nurses on duty, who in their years of experience could tell just from looking what the prognosis had been. Ice just marched on ahead, reaching the car with record speed, as if he were actively trying to run away from the situation.

Pete couldn’t blame him.

The drive home remained silent. Neither of them had the words to say anything, nor the energy to give each other comfort. It was as if the diagnosis itself had sucked the life out of them both. It came as no surprise to Pete that when they did get home that Ice isolated himself. That was just his way, processing his emotions in privacy and then confronting them after thinking it over. But Pete also knew that by the time he would emerge, his husband would also have talked to his sister, and that stung more than Pete could ever care to admit. In truth, he could never begrudge Ice for taking comfort in his family and reaching for the support that Sarah would provide. She had gotten him through his last bout with cancer, it would only make sense that he would go to her again this time too.

But Pete stood alone.

As the door to their bedroom locked, Pete stood in the middle of their house, unsure of what to do now. Who did he talk to? Should he talk to someone, without talking to Ice first? Part of him didn’t even want to talk, it just wanted to drink, or rage, screaming out into a void that this was unfair.

And the last part of him just wanted to cry.

That was the part that won out in the end, which was how Pete found himself sitting out on the back porch, tears slipping down his face, his thoughts continuing to dwell on the situation at hand while staring blankly at a patch of grass. The bad news seemed to reverberate throughout his head, fuelling the grief that wracked his body. A cell phone was held absentmindedly in his hand, still locked and unused, as thought after thought of calling someone…anyone…passed through his head. The only problem was, that the one person he wanted more than anything to talk to wouldn't pick up.

"Talk to me, Goose," Pete whispered, closing his eyes, as he waited, hoping beyond hope for the memory of his best friend to once more give him some measure of comfort.

He couldn’t tell you how long he’d sat there, but it must have been a while because he didn’t even notice his husband emerge from the house, having called out looking for him after leaving their bedroom.

“Pete?” Ice called out from the door, startling Maverick. He tried to dry his face with the back of his hand but could do nothing about the swelling, and the redness of his eyes. Not that it mattered, Ice’s face was in just as poor of a condition as his. But between the two of them, someone had to put themselves together in this moment, and it wasn’t fair to make that be Tom.

“Hey, uh…sorry. I was just thinking. So, how’d Sarah take the news?” Pete asked, his voice cracking.

Ice swallowed, before letting out a sigh. “She has to stay in DC tomorrow for a vote. She had wanted to be on a flight tonight, but I told her to stay until the vote was done, and then she could come out. I’m not dying yet, I said, but she’ll be here Wednesday.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure her room’s aired out.” Pete said absentmindedly. “But that doesn’t really answer my question?”

“I…she took it worse than last time.” Ice admitted, rubbing his hand over his face. “Which I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by, given the prognosis. She started asking me about treatment and stuff, but I told her that we still had some decisions to make. After that, I just hung up.”

“It’s a lot to think about, but the doctor said we would have to move quickly, so that means we have to decide sooner rather than later. What do you want to do?” Mav asked, his voice shaky.

“I…I don’t know. You heard the doctor, same as me. What did you think?”

Pete’s mouth went try, and he tried to start thinking objectively, hoping that by just thinking about it from a logical perspective, the best course of action would present itself.

“Well, his immediate course of action was surgery, followed up by months of intense chemotherapy and radiotherapy. He seemed confident in the success of those treatments, but none of it going to be easy on you. We could try something less intense, but it may not be as effective in combatting the cancer, which, if anything fails, becomes terminal, in which case, you’d be dying, and dealing with the side effects of the treatment.” Pete listed off robotically.

“Yeah,” Ice sighed again. “I just…none of the options seem appealing, do they?”

“No,” Pete whispered.

“I don’t know that I could go through it again, Pete.” Ice rasped, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I think you could, but no one would blame you if you didn’t want to,” Pete said quietly, his heart breaking inside for his husband.

“I would.” Ice admitted. “I would feel like I’m giving up on my life, on us. And after so long of waiting for this, only having had three years doesn’t feel like enough. I want more time.”

Pete reached out and took his husband’s hand, regardless of how much his own was trembling. “So do I.”

The two of them stared at each other in silence, eventually reaching out to each other subconsciously until their hands were linked. Neither said anything, mulling over the options in their heads before Ice let out a loud sigh.

“Our marriage started with you in a hospital bed. I’m not going to let it end with our places swapped.” He said resolutely, and Pete’s breath caught in his chest.

“So, what have you decided then?” He asked, hope starting to bloom.

“Can you call the doctor? I would like to schedule the surgery.”

“Okay,” Pete gave his husband a watery smile. “Do you mind, after that, if I make another call?”

When Sarah Kazansky touched down in California, she had been expecting to find her brother-in-law waiting at arrivals for her, hence waiving the standard car service her office hired for her when she was in-state.

And yet, the young woman with a navy-standard bun holding a neatly-handmade sign with Sarah’s name on it was not her brother-in-law.

“Excuse me…” Sarah waved the woman down, and the young lady’s expression lit up with recognition.

“Congresswoman Kazansky. Lieutenant Natasha Trace. I’m here to escort you to…well, your brother’s home. We’ve met before, in passing, at his wedding?”

“Yes, I remember,” Sarah nodded. “I’m assuming based on your uniform that Pete sent you?”

“No ma’am. I volunteered to come on his behalf.” Natasha said promptly.

“Can I ask why you volunteered?” Sarah questioned.

“Because Mav needed the help.”

“And speaking of Maverick,” Sarah looked around. “Where is he?”

“He’s been in meetings all morning, ma’am.”

“What national emergency is it this time?” Sarah sighed. Apparently, being COMPACFLT meant being a workaholic. She had hoped that was just how her brother did the job. Apparently, she was mistaken. At least he hadn’t abandoned her at the airport.

“His retirement.”

That clipped answer had Sarah doing a double-take. “Excuse me? Pete’s retiring? When was that decided?”

“Monday evening, ma’am.” Natasha offered no more information nor explanation, and Sarah’s frustration began to mount. “Okay,” Sarah said, eyebrows pinched together. “Right then. In that case, Lieutenant Trace, I’d like to see my brother and his husband, please. ASAP.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The home that Tom and Pete Kazansky-Mitchell shared together was considerably more crowded than Sarah the last time she had visited. Several vehicles inhabited the driveway and curb outside the home, as she and Lieutenant Trace arrived, but despite the sheer number of transportation methods outside, the number of people inside was far larger than expected.

It took her at least a moment or two, and some direction from Lieutenant Trace to locate her brother, who was Sarah’s first priority, only to find him elbow-deep in papers, spread out on the formal dining table that the family used for special occasions. A young man with a cane, whom Sarah vaguely recognized from the wedding as well accompanied him, and Lieutenant Trace quickly joined in, looking over her brother’s shoulder. Sarah cleared her throat, and Ice looked up at her, smiling, but his attention was quickly taken again by his companion, asking about dates. Not wanting to interrupt whatever was being discussed that made her brother look so comfortable, Sarah elected to locate her brother-in-law instead.

Only…that task did not prove immediately conclusive either.

Entering the kitchen, Sarah found the room occupied with an assorted group of more soldiers, including a young lady wearing a baby in a harness, each decked in an assorted mixture of uniforms and military-branded casualwear, making box after box of food, using an eclectic pile of notecards, post-its, and printed-off sheets of paper. The smell emanating from the kitchen was divine, and a quick glance at the ingredients confirmed for her that the food would all be kosher, so she hoped no one would deny her a taste later.

Sarah couldn’t help but also admire their teamwork, as the group danced around each other, producing dishes and ingredients with choreographed ease, operating as if they were in the kitchen of a Michelin restaurant instead of her brother’s home.

Finally, after checking multiple other rooms, each one of them seemingly occupied with more and more people, she located Maverick, who was sequestered in the designated office space of the home. Bradley, whom Sarah had now met several times, was keeping the older pilot company, waved at Sarah as she entered, drawing the attention of Pete, who looked up to give her a warm smile, before nodding, clearly listening to the phone that he was holding up to his head.

“Yes, sir. I really appreciate it sir…yes sir. I’ll have my recommendation for you by tomorrow. Thank you, sir. Will do.” Pete put the phone down, and let out an exhausted sigh, leaning back in his chair for a moment before perking back up to look at Sarah.

“Hi, Sarah.” Pete stood up, crossing the room to hug her. Sarah received the hug with grace, before giving Pete the meanest glare she could conjure.

“I realize it took me longer than I would have liked to get here, but having now arrived, I’m starting to get the impression I’ve been left out of the loop. Could you explain to me please, how the hell in the last 48 hours did we go from Tom’s diagnosis to you retiring?” Sarah snapped, internally wincing at her own tone, not having meant to vent her frustrations at Pete.

Pete’s expression fell, and he actually recoiled from her, which made Sarah’s gut pool with guilt, as she finally took a solid look at the man.

He looked tired. And a lot older than she remembered.

Bradley, who up until that point had been seated, and playing a game on his phone, had stood abruptly at Sarah’s comment, unconsciously or not moving closer to stand between the two in-laws. “Ma’am, with all due respect, don’t talk to him like that.” The younger pilot requested, and Sarah sighed.

“You’re right, I…Pete, I’m sorry, I’ve just…I’ve been stewing in worry for two days, and I had hoped to come here and get some answers, but now I just have more questions.” She apologized, and Pete nodded, giving her a half-smile.

Bradley moved closer to Pete, a concerned look on his face, and Sarah felt awkward, watching the exchange take place between the two of them as the younger man checked in on his godfather. Pete gave him a reassuring look, and Bradley backed off, giving Sarah a side-eye.

No one said anything for a moment, all stood in a silent standoff before Sarah sighed. “Bradley, can we have the room, please? I need to speak to Pete, alone.” She asked, but the younger man didn’t move. It took Pete giving him a nod to finally honor Sarah’s request.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said again, far more genuinely once Bradley had left and closed the door. “I shouldn’t have come in here with that tone, but Pete, seriously, what the hell is going on? Tom hasn’t been returning my calls and texts for two days beyond basic platitudes, and no one is giving me answers. And I’m only just now hearing about you retiring, from Lieutenant Trace, who wouldn’t give me any answers whatsoever, so I…”

“Sarah, stop,” Pete said, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Take a breath, sit down, and I’ll give you answers.”

Sarah sat, and Pete pulled his chair around the desk so that he could sit directly across from her. “Okay, so, you already know Ice’s cancer is back. Ice told you that himself on Monday.”

“Right. But he didn’t answer any of my questions about his treatment. Should I call him in for this discussion, so the three of us can talk about it, or…”

“Leave him. I think he’s pretty invested in what he’s doing right now,” Pete smirked, before adopting an air of professionalism once more. “Anyways, yes, he called you on Monday, but at the time of calling you, he hadn’t made a decision on what treatment he would be pursuing, if at all.”

 “IF?” Sarah couldn’t help her alarmed reaction, but Pete held up his hands, trying to stop her in her tracks.

“He has since decided on a course of action with his doctor, with a surgery scheduled early next week, which precludes a combined aggressive treatment of radiotherapy and chemotherapy. We only ironed this all out yesterday, after discussing it with each other after Ice called you last night. In that discussion, we also decided that in a desire to have more time together that I was going to retire. I made my plans known to various higher-ups, including the President, yesterday, and have been in emergency follow-up meetings since. I had planned to pick you up at the airport, but more meetings and calls had been scheduled for today.”

“Okay. If?” Sarah brought the conversation back to the point she had focused on.

“Yes, if,” Pete said patiently. “We had a conversation about whether or not he would pursue treatment at all, having gone through the pros and cons of what the suggested treatments would entail.”

“Pete, are you saying that my brother, was at one point or another, not considering getting treated for this?” Sarah was hyper-focused on this now.

“Sarah…” Pete said, and Sarah snapped.

“No. My brother is not fucking suicidal, Pete!” She shouted, standing up. “He would not…”

The door slammed back open, and Bradley came back inside, interrupting her. “Okay, no. Ma’am, with all due respect, while I would never presume to tell a lady to calm down, you need to stop.”

“Bradley…” Pete trailed off, eyes glancing between his godson and his sister-in-law.

“No, your brother is not suicidal. But he is sick. And while that is not okay, he IS getting treated, which you seem to be conveniently missing out on, because you’re not letting Mav explain. So, I will say this nicely. Take it down a notch, because no one is going to let you come in here and ruin the mood that we worked very hard to set in making both Ice and Mav feel better after getting some devastating news. I understand your frustration, but no one here deserves to have it aimed at them, least of all Mav.”

“Bradley,” Pete said sharply, but Sarah felt cowed. The young pilot wasn’t exactly wrong. “I’ve got this,” Pete assured, glancing back towards the doors pointedly. Bradley jutted out his chin, taking a stubborn stance, but Pete only gave him a deadpan look. Sighing, Bradley left the room once more, and Pete turned his attention back to Sarah, who was slowly retaking her seat.

“Deciding not to get treatment for a terminal illness is not suicidal ideation, Sarah. Don’t ever imply otherwise again,” Pete warned, his voice low. “You, more than anyone else, have seen what he went through last time, you can’t honestly come in here and act surprised that he isn’t chomping the bit at the idea of going through it again?”

Sarah inhaled sharply through her nose. “I…I am surprised. But I suppose I shouldn’t be. I…it just doesn’t feel any different from last time to me.” She whispered, and Pete’s expression softened.

“It is. This isn’t going to be easy, Sarah. The doctors strongly implied that a softer treatment would only prolong his life, rather than save it, so the tumors are just as aggressive as the proposed treatment.”

Sarah’s vision blurred as her eyes began to water. “Is…is he in pain?” She asked.

Pete swallowed, glancing at the doors. “Yes. We…he scheduled an appointment with the doctor because he’d developed a cough, just like last time, and it was getting harder and harder for him to catch his breath afterward, but he felt a lump the day before the appointment, and that’s when we strongly began to suspect what we now know. The coughing is still happening, and now he’s started noticing some other symptoms as well. His voice changed for a brief moment this morning, and the checkup also had us realizing that he’d lost some weight too.”

“I see.” Sarah took this all in before another thought occurred to her. “Will they need to reinsert the gastrostomy tube?”

Pete nodded. “Yes. They’ll be doing that during the surgery next week.”

“Will you need help preparing any meals?” Sarah asked, mentally planning ahead, knowing the limits of her brother-in-law’s cooking ability; tv dinners and MREs.

“No. I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s quite the operation going on in the kitchen,” Pete gestured. “The kids have been getting tons of recipes ready, I got off the phone this morning to find that they’d raided several grocery stores, and more than one person has come in during my meetings with a sample platter. Ice has been getting much of the same treatment.”

“They do know that the taste won’t really matter, right?” Sarah chuckled, and Pete grinned.

“Yes, but one of them said that patients with feeding tubes could supposedly taste the food when burping, which Ice found hilarious, so we’ve let them co-opt our kitchen.”

Sarah snorted at the ridiculous image that her mind came up with, and she found herself beginning to relax slightly. “Speaking of the kids…what are they all doing here?” She asked.

Pete’s expression froze for a moment before he adopted a soft look of pride. “I…Sarah, you know how much I appreciate you, right?”

Sarah blinked. “Sure?” She responded, not knowing how the conversation had gotten here.

“You’re Ice’s family, you’ve done so much for him, and for us, and I couldn’t be more glad to have you here.” Pete continued. Sarah gave him a warm smile, but waited, realizing he was actually going somewhere with this. “But these kids, they’ve become my family too, and I realized that in all of this, that I was going to need them just as much as we need you.”

Sarah melted. “And they just…came?” She asked, curiosity coloring her voice.

“Yeah,” Pete smiled. “Yeah, they did.”

Later that night, the dining table was cleared off of whatever paperwork Ice had been engaged with, and set for fifteen, as Sarah was reintroduced to all of the aviators whom Pete had come to call family. It was the most lively dinner she’d had in a while, and as she watched Pete interact with them, and listened to the stories they exchanged over food, she could very much see that his adoration, love, and respect for each of them was reciprocated in full.

And that, no matter what happened, after god knows how long, Pete Mitchell would never be alone again.