Chapter Text
His day was going fine. He woke up ready to go, got dressed fairly quickly and felt like today was going to be a great day. He had a protein shake for breakfast, and he was off and on his motorcycle, making his way for Top Gun.
Only, halfway, his bike started to make weird noises. So, worried, he pulled off the road and took off his helmet, putting it on the seat as he started to inspect it.
The road was usually quiet at this time of day, so he wasn’t expecting anything to just come out of the blue.
But the side of the road was so narrow that here was hardly any space to pull off on, and any car that would have been coming down that street would have had to move over a little bit to avoid hitting him. But drunks don’t have that kind of reflexes.
Maverick should have been paying attention. But he was just so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t register the presence of the car speeding towards him.
It hit him fast, taking him out back first, and he fell back, his head slamming against the windshield. A concussion of pain exploded around his whole body, and he hadn’t gotten a warning. It all happened in a blink of an eye, so Maverick didn’t even know what was happening until he was thrown off into the grass.
He rolled a couple times, and came to an abrupt, painful stop. His teeth clenched in a wince.
And the car that had hit him just kept going. Like nothing had happened. It just peeled away, continued to drive like a maniac, and disappeared.
Maverick was so surprised and distraught, he couldn’t even contemplate what had just occurred. How did he make sense of that?
He laid back on the grass, every ounce of his body aching like hell.
And he knew, had the driver of the car been going any faster, he would have been killed on the spot.
He stopped at the Top Gun bathroom, locking the door behind him and getting a wet paper towel, pressing it against his wound on the back of his head with a few winces.
He most likely had a few cracked ribs among other injuries. It hurt, but Mav was determined to teach his kids. He had to. He couldn’t leave them hanging.
He lifted up his shirt, and sure enough, black and purple, plus some other nasty looking colors started back.
He had a limp, but that could be hid easily.
Maverick made a game plan, he hates hospitals. He would do whatever it took to avoid going to one.
After he was sure there was no sign of injury on him, he walked to his class. The idea that he had been let off easy and was fine kept circling in his mind. Boy, was he wrong.