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The Darkstar mission is the coziest assignment he’s had in a long while. Before that, it was Kashmir, and for once even Ethan could admit that he needed time to recuperate. When the mission details came in, he chose to accept it.
For the last months he’s been living in a private hangar, fixing up a beauty of a P-51 Mustang, and occasionally getting to test fly the fastest manned plane in existence. All he needs to do to keep it up is fend off the infrequent espionage attempts – easy. It feels like a hand-tailored vacation plan. Life is good.
His assignment has an expiry date, though. They have a Mach 9 test scheduled, and a Mach 10 one planned for the months ahead. When they’re done, Ethan will move on, return to his team, and find another villain’s ploy to foil. He’ll miss Hondo, maybe even the tech guys he’s been spending so much time with, but such is the life of an agent. You never stay anywhere for too long.
The news of Cain’s interference with the program doesn't sit well with Ethan. Maybe the admiral really is in it for the budget shuffles, maybe he’s been manipulated, or perhaps even dirty, but no matter his motives, the IMF's priority is to keep the mission going. Maverick’s priority is to save the jobs and careers of the dozens of team members at site. And when IMF and Maverick’s interests align, rare as it is, Ethan doesn’t need to think twice.
He flies the Darkstar, becomes the fastest man alive, crashes the plane and, impossibly, survives the ejection.
All in a day’s work.
He’s bruised and sore, and perhaps in need of a medical check-up, but he makes his way on foot to the nearest diner. He gets a glass of water, learns his location, and is granted a free phone call at the courtesy of the owners.
Before he can dial Hondo’s number, however, the diner's phone rings. It’s too well-timed to be a coincidence. True to his suspicions, when Ethan picks up, he’s greeted by a familiar recording. He listens till the end of a message, puts down the receiver – thank God, it doesn’t self-destruct this time – and picks it up again to call Hondo. He still needs an evac.
*
Top Gun brings back memories. The place surprises him with its familiarity, even if the interiors have been modernized over the years. He smiles at the photograph in the lobby – that one’s new, but the way to the briefing room is still the same.
“I must admit I wasn’t expecting an invitation back.” Ethan flashes the admirals a cheeky grin.
“They’re called orders, Maverick,” Warlock corrects him with amusement, even if Cyclone’s frown seems to become a permanent fixture on his face.
Ethan smiles coyly, thinking back to his real directives. ‘Your mission, should you choose to accept it…’ Orders, sure. Let’s go with that.
*
A secret uranium enrichment facility. Possibly world-ending consequences of a mission failure. Very tight parameters for mission success. High probability of someone not coming home. All that is nothing new for Ethan Hunt. It’s no news for Pete Mitchell either.
The problem is– no, the first problem is, they want him to teach the mission, not fly it. He’s not a goddamn teacher. He didn't sign up to be responsible for other pilots’ survival, not like this. If he won’t be there as their wingman, he’ll be stuck on the ground, listening to the comms and hoping for the best. It’s a stupid misunderstanding. Somewhere between his IMF identity and his official Navy career, wires have been crossed. This is not what he’s trained for, not where his true skills lie.
He almost declines.
But the admirals make it clear that the mission will go on even if he does, with someone else as an instructor; someone with less real life experience on surviving the impossible. If he declines, the pilots’ chances of survival drop below levels Ethan is willing to accept.
And that leads him to the second problem. Rooster. Bradley Bradshaw, whose life Pete has once been a part of, up until he pulled the kid’s papers from the Naval Academy. Pete expected the anger, even if he didn’t predict the extent of it. Bradley wasn’t ready then to listen to rational explanations with an open mind, and it’s not like Pete could’ve offered him any that wasn’t classified, or for that matter, safe for Bradley to know at that time.
Even after their fallout, Ethan kept tabs on him. He’s had Iceman sending him updates from the official record, and he dug deeper using his IMF clearance, just to be sure he wasn’t missing anything relevant. The kid made it to the cockpit of a jet even despite Pete’s meddling, and went on to become one of the best pilots in the Navy. Normally, Maverick couldn’t be more proud, but right now he’s heartbroken, because it’s his godson that might fly the suicide mission.
Maverick will do anything to keep him safe. It’s a terrible idea, a dreadful assignment. He chooses to accept it.
*
They need a backup plan. The Navy’s mission idea is demanding, bordering on not feasible, and Ethan refuses to believe it’s the only way. So, he contacts Benji, and together they whip up the first draft of the plan.
Ethan likes it more than the suicidal aviations only because the lives it endangers are those of IMF agents who fully know the risks that come with the job. It relies on Ilsa and Luther finishing her current mission on time, though, and it’s even more hazardous, with lower likelihood of success. They figure they can run both simultaneously, increasing their chances that way – and if they're still low, well, it's not a first.
Still, Ethan needs to prepare the pilots for their part of the plan, and embrace the old, familiar identity of Captain Pete Mitchell for a little while longer.
*
Meeting Penny is a blast from the past. He hasn't expected to run into her on the North Island of all places, but it's refreshingly nice. Here, he can be just Maverick, a pilot who can't follow orders if his life depends on it. There's no pressure of terrorists breathing on his neck. He's not on the run; he doesn't need to keep his distance from the civilians because there is no danger breathing down his neck – not here, stateside. It’s those casual connections that he misses the most in his life as an agent.
They flirt, because of course Pete and Penny do, but it's not a honeypot mission, no stakes, so Pete can lean back and enjoy the easy camaraderie.
It's an instinct to scope the room, even as relaxed as he is, and he quickly notices the hotshots he's come to Miramar to teach. His students, for fucks sake. He's become a goddamn teacher. He snorts into his beer.
He watches the kids to gain insight of what he can expect from tomorrow on. There's Hangman, a cocky asshole, but his skill at darts and pool speak for his attention to detail. Everyone who’s been called back for the mission must be among the best the Navy has to offer, but this one pilot Pete might need to watch out for. There's Phoenix, a spitfire of a woman, giving as good as she gets but kind and team-oriented at the same time. The one to rely on.
Despite knowing what’s coming, he still isn't prepared for Rooster's entrance. Strolling in, dressed in a loose Hawaiian shirt, the man looks like a spitting image of his father. He doesn't look Maverick's way – if he hasn't seen him yet, Pete intends to keep it this way, if only so he doesn't see Bradley's confident smile morph into something more vicious. Pete's chest aches when he's reminded of the jagged bits of his old life as Maverick, parts that still have the power to cut right through him. Damn. Even all these years later, he misses what they once had.
He's no longer in the mood for cold reading the room, so he asks Penny to ring him up. She comes back a moment later, claiming his card's been declined, her smile entirely too pleased for it to be true, and suddenly Pete is carried outside by the very same pilots who will meet him on base first thing tomorrow.
He lands on the sand laughing, despite the protests of his aching ribs. He's looking forward to seeing their faces.
Just as he’s about to head home and get a full night’s sleep, a song he hasn't heard in years holds him back. The memories of Goose and Carole, of Bradley, of that damned accident – they all come rushing back. He stumbles, his chest suddenly tight. He focuses on his breathing, on the purposeful in and out – he has practice in weathering through that particular storm. It still hurts all the same.
*
He can't remember the last time he's gotten an introduction as grandiose and flattering as Warlock's. There goes the idea of managing the expectations – his usual mode of operation is avoiding recognition, but damn if it isn't a pleasant change of pace.
"I give you Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign – Maverick."
He grins at the aviators. Just like expected, he's enjoying the moment, watching mortification on their faces. It helps to start the training with an upper hand, too.
If only Rooster didn’t refuse to meet Maverick's eyes, stubbornly looking forward, anger clear in the tension of his body…
Later. They can talk it out later.
Now, Maverick chucks the NATOPS into a trash can with a satisfying thud. Now, lieutenants' shocked reactions tell him just how much they aren't ready for the demands of the mission. Now, they need to get to work.
"Today we’ll start with what you only think you know," he says with the final once-over of the pilots. "You show me what you’re made of."
*
On a professional level, the training is going well. The younger pilots are improving. They get more confident in their dogfighting, and despite Pete’s harsh evaluation of their mistakes on the canyon run, he sees the potential there, too.
On a personal level… it could be going better. Yale, Harvard and Fritz are keeping to themselves instead of bonding with the team, but they're not even the worst problem. Neither is, it pains Maverick to admit, Hangman and Rooster's rivalry.
It's his own past with Bradley that's keeping them all on their toes.
He needs a solution, stat. Busy searching for it, he almost turns down Ice's invitation. He could get away with ignoring that veiled order – Ice knows about the IMF; he's aware the Navy's chain of command doesn't really concern his wingman – but he owes Tom that much.
He's damn glad he visits. Cancer. Fuck. If it was anything else, he could've called in favors, as Pete and as Ethan both, but in the face of a medical condition he's powerless, humbled, same as any other man.
Ice proves that he's the best wingman (even if not the better pilot). Even now, when he should be his own priority, Ice is the guiding presence Pete needs.
Letting go, huh. He's made a career out of not giving up and holding on – to hope, to the ideal, to his own judgment. Iceman is a wise man, though, so Pete is willing to give his advice a chance. As soon as he figures out how.
*
Even the best laid plans don’t always survive confrontation with reality, and the mission plan isn’t any different.
Benji supplies the updated intel as soon as he gets his hand on it, which means Pete spends the early hours of the morning staring at the ceiling, reevaluating their options over and over again. Later, when he gives up on his feeble attempts at sleep, he calls Benji, who picks up right after the first ring despite the early hour.
"We can't run both missions." There's just not enough time, nor manpower, not with Luther and Ilsa still tied up with securing sensitive data leaked from the French government.
Benji doesn’t object. They both know it.
"Then you need to make this one work."
It really is as simple as that, and as difficult. None of the pilots is ready to forget the book, fly, and trust their wingmen to have their back. Iceman insists that Pete can teach that.
Kazansky has always had more faith in him than he deserves.
*
How is he supposed to get them back home from behind the enemy lines when he almost loses three of the pilots on a training hop? His breath catches when remembers just how close it was.
Maverick finds Rooster in the rec room. The kid's distressed, his usually vibrant self muted by the reminder of how real the risks are – and he only watched the disaster from the sidelines. He wasn’t in the air with them. (Maverick's hands still tremble when he lets himself slow down; he keeps busy to hide it.)
He doesn't know how to soothe Bradley's worries when his own are boiling so close to the surface.
"No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn you when you burn in."
Bradley's accusatory words are like poison, hurting the more the deeper they sink in. There’s barely a thread tethering Pete Mitchell to this world. Ethan Hunt is a valued operative, but in the greater scheme he's still expendable. His team would remember him, for a while, but they'd move on. They'd have to.
He's tired. He doesn't want this fight.
Rooster doesn't yield.
"Why’d you pull my papers at the academy? Why did you stand in my way?!"
Pete winces, then hides behind an expressionless mask. "It wasn't the right time."
"Not the right time? Huh? Thought I couldn't make it? Couldn’t fly like you?"
It's not that. It's not that at all, but how does Maverick explain that he was hunted at the time, that Bradley's name in the system would've made him a target? He can’t. He doesn't.
He takes on all that Bradley throws at him, like a stab wound to his gut. He doesn't flinch. Not until Warlock comes in to deliver the news, and the knife twists, tearing a gasp out of his chest.
Iceman, the last link to his past, the last person who truly knew the whole of him, is gone.
*
The moment Maverick’s guardian angel stops watching over him, Cyclone changes his orders. For all his apparent admiration for Admiral Kazansky, he’s quick to forget Iceman’s authority. It would be ridiculous if it didn’t mean Maverick is stripped of his post as the Top Gun instructor.
He’s given up on running the alternative op to focus on their best chance to make the mission work and destroy the enemy’s facility, and now he’s told he’s no longer a part of it. It’s wrong. He isn’t ready to accept it.
“Sir, they have to believe that this mission can be flown,” he protests.
“And all you’ve managed to do is teach them that it can’t.”
He’s tempted to storm out of Cyclone’s office. Somehow, he manages to contain his fury until he gets on the phone with Benji. Pete vents until he’s recapped the whole story, and then he’s just exhausted. Is that what defeat feels like?
“He really said that?” Benjii asks, amused. Pete hums his confirmation. “Ethan, you’ve been pushing the lines of what’s possible since before I met you. There’s no one better than you to prove that they can do it.”
God, Ethan loves that man. This is exactly the reminder he needed to hear.
A wide grin spreads on Maverick’s face. “Hey, want to help me steal an F-18?”
*
He flies the damn route in 2:15, drops a bomb blind and hits a bullseye. When he levels out after the steep incline, he feels calm. He feels alive.
*
He feels so fucking relieved that he could cry, and almost does, when Cyclone yields and assigns him the mission leader. It’s a scenario he didn’t dare hope for. One less person to send out; one less life to risk. A chance to pull stunts Ethan Hunt – a Maverick – is notorious for.
He’s known his choice of a wingman from the start, even when he wasn’t ready to admit it. He wants to give ‘letting go’ a chance, one day, but it’s still a work in progress. He decides to start with trust, instead.
It’s a scarce resource in his line of work. Ethan trusted his mentor when he first joined the iMF – a mistake he’s learned from, since. He’s grown more cautious when choosing his team, and knows to follow his gut when it warns him off of someone. Sometimes, though, it’s worth taking a leap of faith and letting someone in.
Rooster. It’s been Rooster all this time. The boy he helped raise. The man he hasn’t seen in years but still can read like an open book. The steady, reliable pilot, a damn fine one whenever he trusts his instincts. He’s the obvious and the only choice of his Dagger Two.
*
The adrenaline washes away the last of his nerves, leaving only alert clarity of his mind. He's in the air. Three jets, five aviators are following on his tail. There's command and Comanche in one of his ears, his pilots too, and Benji is feeding the latest updates from decrypted enemy logs in his other one.
It's not perfect. Comanche gives him an all-clear, but Benji warns him about a long-range patrol: not close enough to endanger the mission, but a sure threat on the way home.
Pete keeps his breath purposefully even, no matter how much he wants to badger Benji for more details. This is their window. They knew from the start that it wasn't going to be wide open.
It's just a couple of bogeys and a battery of SAM missiles, right? He’s had worse.
Bradley’s breathing is loud in his ears, and for a brief seconds worry distracts him from the objective. He shakes it off. There’s no time for thinking. They need to go ahead with the mission and the pilots are waiting for his go-ahead.
“Dagger Attack.”
*
“–than! Wake up! Come on, Ethan!”
He doesn’t want to wake up. He’s tired; even the concept of opening his eyes feels overwhelming, so he doesn’t. He’ll rest for just a few more minutes, he thinks. He’ll lie here, on the cold– snow?
“Ethan, you have a helicopter incoming! Get up!”
His eyes snap open and suddenly, he’s fully awake. Just in time, too: the pounding sound of chopper’s blades echoes in the clearing. The enemy spots him at the same moment that he sees them.
Fuck. That is not good.
His moves are sluggish from the crash as he unclips the chute from his vest, but when he runs for cover, adrenaline is pumping through his veins again. His vision narrows down to the fallen log in front of him, and he sprints.
The cover is only temporary; he’s a sitting duck with nowhere else to run. The chopper turns and aims its guns, and Maverick exhales slowly in the realization that this is how his story ends.
“Benji, I’m s–”
The explosion stuns him; the apology’s left unspoken. He’s not dead yet – but how? He’s stayed behind the enemy’s lines, the Daggers should be heading back– God, no.
He knows even before the jet flies by. He’s dreading the fallout before the SEM fires. His heart breaks before the jet explodes.
“Oh no,” he whispers.
“Dagger Two is hit,” comes the crushing confirmation through the comms.
Bradley.
*
His heart beats hard as he runs through the forest. He thinks it must be from the physical exhaustion, but the true reason for it might just as well be the fear for Bradley who was supposed to be safe – or the relief at the sight of Rooster, whole and alive, here, with him. His thoughts are jumbled and he gives up on making any sense of them. Instead, he lashes out, argues with Bradley, and drinks in the fact that they’re both still alive to do that.
God. He’s never been so relieved.
"So, what's the plan?"
Maverick considers the variables for a moment, weighs off the risks of bringing Bradley into his IMF life against their chances in enemy territory, and comes to an easy decision.
"Benji, what's the enemy chatter?"
"Benji?" Rooster asks, confused. "I'm Bradl–"
Pete stops him with an open hand in the air. He shakes his head and touches his ear – Rooster seems to get the gesture because he's gaping at him incredulously. Before they can address it though, they need the intel Benji is supplying on the comms, even if most of it are snarky complaints.
"'Benji, decrypt the military communication. Benji, translate the words in a language you don't speak. Benji, maybe some fries with– Oh!" Ethan grins. If anyone could do it, it's Benji. "Not good. Not good, you need to get out of there, Ethan. They're pissed about the chopper– well, yes, and the facility too. They're sending foot patrols to find you two."
Shit. No staying in place hoping for evac.
"Let's go, we gotta move," he says to Bradley, tapping his shoulder as he passes the kid.
Rooster catches up with him moments later. "Your radio is working? Are they sending evac? Did the rest get to the carrier safe?" The barrage of questions is predictable.
"I have comms," Pete admits. "But they're not Navy. I work with an agency team; the tech is better grade. No evac, not with 5th gens still in the air, and the enemy is onto us. We need to find our own way out, but don't worry, kid. I have a plan."
"Ethan Hunt has a plan. Lovely. What levels of insanity should I prepare for?" Benji sighs in his ear, but Maverick can tell he's already reading the keyboard for whatever’s coming. Mav smiles.
"Nothing we haven't done before, Benji. Check Dagger status for me, alright? I'll need you to create a diversion later, but we're good for now."
They march in silence for a minute, though Pete senses that it's not for the lack of questions Bradley has for him.
"I don't know if it's comforting that ejecting behind enemy lines is no news for you, Mav," Rooster settles on, finally.
Pete chuckles. "Ejection? No, usually I jump off the planes that aren't exploding at the time."
"What the fuck," Rooster whispers to himself, and Mav doesn't hide his smirk; Bradley is following his trail in the snow and can't see his expression anyway. It might be for the best that Pete doesn’t see his either; it will give the kid a moment to freak out in moderate privacy. Besides, if he isn't asking too many questions, he won't learn any more disturbing things from Pete's past he could overthink about. They’ll have the time for that when they get back.
It’s maybe half an hour walk to the destination Pete has in mind, and Rooster seems to deflate in relief after Benji confirms the Daggers are all safe on board. He's quiet as they trek, except for the purposefully measured breaths, rhythmic inhales and exhales that Pete is secretly grateful for. It's a constant reminder that Bradley is alive, and that he still can be saved.
Rooster breaks his silence when they reach the enemy airport.
"You can't be serious."
Maverick just quirks up one corner of his mouth. "Benji, run the interference. Get them off the tarmac, or at least keep them occupied."
"God, Ethan, how about some warning next time? Give a guy a chance to prepare!"
"Can you, or can't you do it?"
Benji doesn't reply for a pointed minute, but then sighs. "You're lucky I know you, Ethan. Distraction is a go in one, two…"
On three, they don't see anything happen. But then, a few heartbeats later, there's a sudden commotion on the far side of the airport and the soldiers are called in towards the buildings barely visible through the smoke in the distance.
"Let's go. We've got a plane to catch."
Maverick clasps his hand on Rooster's arm briefly, ignores the deadpanned 'what' and trots down the hill towards the tarmac.
*
It goes so smoothly – lost landing gear aside – that it makes Maverick itching with worry. If his years in the IMF have taught him anything, it's that things never go smoothly.
It's almost a relief when the 5th gens catch up with them, because at least now he knows where the danger’s coming from. Almost, because how the hell is he supposed to bring Bradley back home from this?
“An F-14 against 5th gen fighters? It’s impossible.” He shakes his head.
“Impossible is your favourite pastime, Ethan.”
“It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot.”
Bradley and Benji speak at the same time, and the thing is, they’re both right. Maverick doesn’t want to endanger Bradley, but he can’t exactly contest his own words when they’re thrown back at him.
“Don’t think; just do.”
So he does.
*
“Sir?” the radio operator calls out to Cyclone who, thankfully, is still in the command room. “We’ve received… intel.” She hesitates, but carries on at the admiral’s nod. “It says a friendly jet in our area will be in need of assistance. Requests airborne support in the air ASAP.”
Cyclone frowns. “Who the hell sent that intel and why haven’t we heard anything about an ally operation in the area beforehand?”
“It’s, uh, CIA, sir?” The operator looks down at her screen in confusion. It’s not coming through the proper channels, but the source is verified.
Without the confirmation from the top of the command chain, it might be a spoof. On the other hand, they can’t risk sleeping on that kind of intel. Cyclone nods to himself.
“Prepare Dagger Spare. Launch at first sight of a friendly aircraft.”
*
The rollercoaster of emotions – panic at the thought of ejection without a chute, cheer at splash two, horror of the third jet getting a tone on them, elation at the rescue a split second later – have both Pete and Bradley crashing pretty much as soon as their feet touch the carrier. What they did should, by all measures, be impossible, and while Maverick is used to beating the unlikely odds, he usually does that without the weight of dragging his godson on the ride with him.
He promised Bradley they’ll talk, but when the kid asks about Benji, Pete tells him to wait until they’re back stateside. There’s too many ears around them at all times, especially so with Daggers taking turns at keeping watch over them in medical. The squad’s dedication to making sure the two of them are and continue being fine has Pete rolling his eyes, but to himself he reluctantly admits that it does keep him from giving the nurses a slip.
He only gets a single chance to talk to Benji in private: to thank him for getting Hangman in the air on time, ask him for a one more favor, and warn him Pete’s going off comms until they get onto land.
Once stateside, the medical releases them with stern orders to take it easy on leave, which Pete intends to follow to the letter, at least up until he doesn’t, but they finally, finally get to get off the carrier.
The families are waiting for the soldiers; Pete smiles as he watches the pilots return to their loved ones. He got them here; they’ve come back home. The miracle number three.
Only Rooster stays by his side, no family to welcome him back. The guilt of having taken his father from him is mixed with relief that he did manage to keep Bradley safe. When Pete looks at his boy, he comes to a starting realization that Bradley has not just stayed with him due to lack of choice, but because he’s considering Maverick his family, once more. He almost chokes, swallowing down the wave of raw emotions coursing through him.
“Ethan!”
His eyes widen at the familiar voice. He snaps his head towards it, and there they are, standing awkwardly among the soldiers and their families.
“Come on, Bradley.” He taps the kid's forearm with a grin. “I want you to meet someone.”
He weaves through the thinning crowd, glancing back once to check if Rooster’s following but otherwise beelining to his team.
“Ethan, man, I swear we’re not letting you go anywhere alone anymore,” Luther complains, but draws Maverick into a hug.
“I give you one week of babysitting him until you want to drop him off the plane yourself.” Ilsa rolls her eyes but she lays her hand on Ethan’s shoulder when he leans up to kiss her cheek in a greeting.
“I take full offense,” he scoffs.
“Good.” She raises one elegant eyebrow at him. For all she looks indifferent, she’s come all the way here to welcome Pete back, straight from her own mission. Her actions speak louder than her aloof demeanor.
“Benji,” Pete turns to the last person in the group. “Fuck, Benji, thank you.” He tugs the man forward and grips him tight.
“Just doing my job,” the agent pats his arm awkwardly, not fully grasping out right just how much Ethan owes him, so he pulls back to look his friend in the eye, hoping Benji will see the seriousness on Ethan’s face. He does; he glances at Rooster and his eyes soften when he adds, “You know we’ve got your back.”
Ethan nods sharply; he doesn’t trust his voice to say more on the subject, so he turns to introduce Bradley to the team.
“Team, this is Bradley Bradshaw,” he starts.
“Rooster,” Benji nods.
“Your kid,” Luther supplies.
Pete rolls his eyes but smiles. “Yeah,” he agrees easily. “Bradley, this is my team. Benji – the one on the comms; Luther, and Ilsa.”
“Nice to meet you, Bradley.” Even as Ilsa reaches her hand to shake Rooster’s, she shoots Pete a gentle look. “We’re honored to get to meet someone from Ethan’s past.”
“Ethan?” Rooster asks, uncertain. Pete winces and gives him an awkward smile.
“Pete Mitchel. Maverick. Ethan Hunt.” He shrugs. “On the ground, in the air, on the agency’s business – it’s all just names, anyway.”
“I thought you just work with the agents,” Rooster protests in confusion. “You’re commissioned in the Navy.”
“Ahhhh, about that…” Pete rubs his neck. It’s a whole few decades of– well, not always lying, but omitting the truth, to unravel now. “I did fly missions for the Navy at times, but mostly it’s been a convenient cover for the agency contract. Ice helped to keep it under wraps,” he admits. “Now…”
“It’s all handled,” Benji interjects. “Like you asked, Captain Pete Mitchell is officially no longer a soldier of the US Navy.”
Ethan pauses. “Feels weird,” he says. It’s been a part of who he was for most of his life. He still feels like himself, though, as if nothing important has changed.
“What.”
Ethan bites his lip. He feels somewhat bad for dragging Rooster into the chaotic pace and unpredictability of the IMF without any warning, but he just chuckles with the relief of having Bradley back in his life, in any capacity.
“Maverick.”
It’s Cyclone; that unhumorous, commanding voice is easy to recognise. Rooster’s already standing at attention, but Pete turns around almost lazily.
“Yes, sir?”
“Now that you’re out of medical, I expect you in my office tomorrow at 900,” the admiral says sternly. “We need to talk about your future in the Navy.” It’s Cyclone’s brand of a peace offering, Maverick knows, despite the frown that’s made its return on the man’s face.
It’s a shame he can’t accept it.
“Uh, actually…” Pete glances at Benji who gives him a couple quick nods, confirming once more that the deed is done. “Admiral, I’m no longer under your command.”
“I did say it will be your last post, Mitchell, but I haven’t signed off on your retirement yet.” Cyclone’s face shifts into an unimpressed grimace. He seems to be reconsidering his previous offer, and Pete’s not even trying to piss him off.
“Well. That might be technically correct, admiral,” Pete tilts his head with a polite smile. “But I’m not a part of the Navy anymore. I'm an agent for the IMF.”
“The what now, Mitchell?” Cyclone sighs, resigned, as if the news doesn’t come completely out of left field at him. Maybe he’s growing used to Maverick’s brand of chaos, after all.
Pete grins wider. “The IMF agency, admiral. The details of our operation are, of course, classified, but we appreciate you acting on the provided intel nonetheless.”
Simpson stares him down, as if waiting for a punchline or for someone to tell him it’s a joke, but Maverick just keeps his polite mask on. Finally, Cyclone sighs in defeat.
“If I find out you’re bullshitting your way out–
“Not this time, admiral,” Maverick promises with a smile so wide his cheeks hurt. “But if I am, you’ll have the pleasure to personally fire my ass from the Navy.”
*
When the rush from the mission fades and it’s finally time for them to talk, Maverick hesitates. He should be the one to reach out to Rooster, but he can’t quite bring himself to it. What would he say if he did? How does he apologize for the years of deception, and how does he explain that he doesn’t regret what he’s done? He just doesn’t know where he’d start.
Rooster starts with a knock.
He doesn’t wait long; he comes over the same evening. If his relieved sigh when Pete opens the door is anything to go by, he’s been worried that Maverick would disappear without a word. With no pride, Pete has to admit he might’ve, if he overthought things any further.
He invites Bradley in. They order take out, chat idly about everything that isn’t what they both actually need to talk about, and sit down on the couch with boxes of Chinese noodles once the delivery gets there. Occupied with food, they pretend the drawn-out silence is a byproduct of their hunger, not avoidance.
“You didn’t break your arm on a plane,” Rooster says after a while, setting down his now empty box. It’s not a question. It takes a moment for Pete to sort through the long list of injuries he’s suffered over the years, until he remembers the broken arm, and snorts.
“No, God, that one was ridiculous. Got the grappling hook rope wrapped around it. Dumb rookie mistake,” he laughs at his younger self. He runs a hand through his hair, and when he does, he realizes that Bradley isn’t laughing with him. Shit. “Yeah, uhm.” Smooth, Mav, real smooth. He starts over. “I’m sorry,” he says earnestly.
He lets the apology hang between them, mulling over his next words. The food no longer looks appetizing, but he stabs it with his chopsticks a few times, deep in thoughts. He sighs.
“Look, kid–” He winces. Rooster’s face is unreadable, but Maverick just knows that he’s said the wrong thing, again. “Bradley, look. I’ve been an agent for– well, most of my life now, and what we do… it’s dangerous. IMF. Impossible Mission Force.” He shakes his head, jaw clenched. “It’s one thing that the missions are confidential. Things we do, we piss off people who aren’t playing around.”
“So you lied.”
It’s an accusation if Maverick has ever heard one. Bradley’s tone is oh, so carefully neutral; cold. Pete looks away, pained.
“I couldn’t tell you the truth about my job,” he reasons. Pleads. “But I’ve never lied about anything else. You– Nick and Carole– You are my family. That was never a lie.”
With Rooster rolling his jaw and his face losing the blank mask, Maverick knows what’s coming. He closes his eyes, trying to brace himself for it.
“When you pulled my papers, was that the real you too?”
He’s hit with the memory of that time: younger Bradley was still grieving after Carole’s death, and the one thing he was looking forward to was the Academy. Pete, just as unmoored, had just discovered that his mentor turned on the agency and tried to pin the betrayal on Ethan. Jim knew who Ethan Hunt was before the IMF. He knew all about Bradley, and he had people looking for the kid.
Bad timing was all there ever was to it. He couldn’t have Bradley’s name show up in the system, lead the mercenaries straight to him. He couldn’t take that risk. So, he called in a favor.
“Did you really think so little of me?” Bradley demands sharper when Maverick doesn’t reply right away.
“God, never. I always believed in you. It was– My boss was trying to–” He cuts himself off, not because he wants to keep the real story from Bradley, but because he doesn’t want to distract either of them with the dramatic details before he gets to his point. “Baby Goose.” His voice cracks but he powers through. “I will always choose you alive and safe over any alternative.”
When Rooster looks at him now, it’s softer, if confused. The anger is still clinging to sharp edges of his frown, but his eyes slowly widen in realization.
“Mav,” he says, voice heavy with cautious understanding, and reaches to grip Maverick’s wrist.
They’re not okay yet, but Bradley is reaching out, not shutting Maverick down. Pete allows himself to hope.
*
“Car chase.”
“Please,” Maverick scoffs. “That’s field work 101.”
Bradley chuckles and bites his lip, trying to come up with a more outlandish stunt. “A helicopter chase!”
“Oh, yeah.” Pete laughs. “Did that one. Started by climbing up the cargo hook, ended up crashing both choppers. Kinda hated that one; wouldn’t recommend.”
“No way, old man! That’s impossible!”
Pete nudges Bradley with his elbow. “IMF,” he reminds him. “That’s kinda exactly our thing.”
*
“How long do you have until you need to head back?”
Pete sighs. As much as he wishes his job would let him stay, he knows he’s needed elsewhere.
“Not long,” he admits quietly. “But not yet.”
Bradley tilts his head back. He’s sitting on the floor now, back against the couch, so he needs to look up to meet Maverick’s eyes.
“I’ll miss you, you know.” The sincere sentiment takes Pete by surprise, but before he can fully process that revelation, Bradley frowns, looks at his bottle of beer, and shoots Pete with another one: “I have missed you.”
“Bradley–”
“So you better keep in touch, old man, you hear me?” Rooster glares at him. “And stay safe. I’m not losing you when I just got you back.”
*
When Pete shows up on base one week later, the Daggers are gathered in the ready room in full uniform, summoned to receive news about their next post as a new squadron, even if they don’t yet know it. He won’t miss the strict chain of command or the long months at a time spent on the careers, Pete muses, but the service uniform does make everyone look good; so do the dress whites.
He’s told that he suits up well in civilian clothing too, so maybe there’s not much to mourn.
“Maverick? Sir?” The pilots are all looking at his gray suit and tie with wide eyes, but, as usual, it’s Hangman who is daring enough to break the silence, followed closely by Natasha.
“Captain Mitchell, what are you–”
“Not a captain anymore, Phoenix,” Pete interrupts her gently. Despite his soft tone, the announcement startles the kids with the exception of Rooster who’s already heard the extended version of the story. “‘Maverick’, or ‘Pete’, will do.”
“What are you doing on base, Mav? They let you in?” Rooster teases. His playful side making an appearance is the best sign of their slowly mending bond.
Pete chuckles and shrugs with his hands raised. “Eh, you know how it is. You know a guy who knows a guy, and suddenly your ID flashes green in the system.”
“Benji?” Rooster raises his eyebrows.
Maverick snorts out a laugh. “No, there was no need. I drove to base everyday for a few weeks; they’ve long stopped checking my ID.”
The Daggers look between the two of them, growing more and more confused by the minute, so Pete takes pity on them.
“Look, kids.” He sighs. He really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to the squad; he has no practice with amicable goodbyes. “I didn’t want to disappear for good without one last chance to tell you I’m proud of you.” He clears his throat to keep it from clogging from the foreign-feeling sincerity. “You are damn good pilots, all of you, even if you still have space to grow. It was a real pleasure to both work with you at Top Gun, and fly the mission with you.” He looks them in the eyes, one by one, then nods. “You did good.”
“No way you’re retiring,” Hangman protests.
“Retire?” Pete pulls a face. “No, I’m not quite ready for that.”
“Then what–”
Fanboy’s question gets interrupted by the opening doors, and the pilots scramble to their feet to salute the officers. Maverick puts one hand in his pocket, at ease.
“Admirals!” he greets cheerfully.
“Maverick,” Warlock nods at him with a smile.
Cyclone, however, grimaces at the sight of him, and inhales sharply before he responds. “Agent Mitchell.”
“Ah, so you checked. No bullshit, is it?” Maverick gives Simpson a shit-eating grin that matches his tone.
“Unexpectedly, it isn’t,” the admiral drawls, seemingly displeased with his findings. “Why are you on my base, Mitchell?”
“Oh, just saying goodbyes. I’ll be out of your hair in a moment,” Pete assures him, then turns to the pilots. “I hope it’s the last time we meet at work, Lieutenants. You’ve had enough of impossible missions for a lifetime.”
“And you, Mav?” Rooster is quick to ask.
Maverick chuckles. There’s a team waiting for him, and new directives are sure to come in soon. His job will keep him away once more, but this time, he leaves a phone number saved on Bradley’s phone, and a promise to stay in touch. He’s not ready to slow down, now that he has more reasons to keep on going. Has he had enough of pulling off impossible miracles?
“Me? I wouldn’t know what to do without them.”
