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The first thing that Phoenix registers is the burning sun. It’s right in her eyes, and she lifts a hand to try and shield her gaze. Something drips down from her wrist onto her face; blood.
She sits up slowly, trying to take stock of her injuries. There’s a long cut running from her thumb to halfway down her right forearm, shallow enough that she knows she won’t need stitches or anything. Her left leg hurts like a bitch, she probably landed on it wrong. Nothing feels broken or dislocated, thank god for that.
The plane is toast, she can see the smoke rising from the mountainside. Her head is pounding, like it always is after an ejection. Not that ejecting is something she does often- this is only the third time. The first time was a bird strike in training, the second time was when some idiot nearly collided into her plane the first time she was at Top Gun. This time- another bird strike- she’s not alone. It comes to her quickly- Bob was in the plane, too, Bob ejected too, and while she’s pretty sure she passed out almost as soon as the ejection handles were pulled, she has no idea what happened to her WSO.
She struggles to get up for a minute, then immediately turns and dry heaves, falling down on all fours. Her vision swims, and she waits a long moment before she tries to get up again. This time she manages to stay on her feet, though she’s a little unsteady. She scans the landscape, looking for Bob.
“Fuck,” she mutters. “Fuck, fuck, fuck !” There’s no sign of him anywhere, just debris from the plane that must have gone flying in the explosion. She starts hiking for it, knowing that whoever’s coming for them will be starting the search at the place where the plane went down. Maybe, hopefully, Bob is making his way there, too.
As it turns out, Bob doesn’t need to be making his way there- he’s already arrived, descended from the heavens with all the glory of someone stupid enough to get trapped under a piece of debris from the plane.
“Oh, hey,” he says, already awake and kicking by the time she’s stumbled over to him. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says, choking a bit on a wet laugh. “Are you?”
“Peachy,” he says, smiling wide. “Except for, you know.” He gestures to the piece of metal that’s on top of both of his legs. Other than that, he’s got a small cut on his forehead, but he’s not missing his glasses or his particular brand of humor that Phoenix has come to love.
“Right,” she says. “Do you want me to try and get it off you, or-”
“That would be great.”
She does make an attempt- but Bob yelps in pain the second she manages to get it off the ground.
“Okay,” she says, lowering it back down carefully. “Okay. We’re just gonna wait for someone else to come and get you out of this.”
“I’m not paralyzed,” Bob says firmly. “I’m wiggling my toes right now. And I don’t think anything’s broken, either.”
“Well, that’s good,” Phoenix hums, not sure what else to say. She sits down next to Bob, reaches out for his hand on instinct. He gives it to her, squeezes a little bit. “They should be here soon.”
“Yeah,” Bob agrees.
“Rooster’s probably worked himself into a mess.”
“You would do the same.”
She laughs, a little. “Yeah, I would. Hangman’s worse, though.”
“Hangman? Really?” Bob looks at her in disbelief. She nods.
“He’s a mother hen. He pretends he doesn’t care about anything, but he’s the biggest worrier I’ve ever seen.”
“I never would’ve guessed,” Bob snorts. “He’s such a jerk.”
“He’s an asshole,” Phoenix agrees. Then, “Why don’t you swear, Bob?”
“Never felt the need to. Although I kind of want to right now. Do you know how I got my callsign?”
“No,” Phoenix says, grinning at him, because God she wants to hear this story. “Everyone’s been trying to guess what it means. Does it stand for something?”
“Nope. It’s just Bob.”
“Okay, come on, you can’t dangle that apple in front of me. What’s the story?”
Bob grins back. “Flight school. Lawrence Kopecki knocked me into a locker one too many times, so we got into a brawl in the parking lot of the nearest bar. I won without even letting him get a hit on me.”
“Holy shit,” Phoenix laughs. “Badass on board! Where’s the name come in?”
“No one saw it coming. They all thought he was gonna kick me to the curb, so when the opposite happened they gave me the most unassuming callsign ever. Bob.”
“Jesus, Bob,” she says. “That’s one hell of a way to get your callsign.”
“I know,” he says proudly. “What about you, where does Phoenix come from?”
“Every time I got knocked down, I’d get right back up. Rise from the ashes and all that, made it to the top of my class. Best of the best, and all that.”
“Of course you are,” Bob says, and he sounds genuine. He tries to shift and then winces a bit, and she sighs.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she says quietly.
“No going back and changing it now,” he replies, attempting to shrug. “We’ll be okay.”
“It’s you I’m worried about.”
“I said we , Nix. We’ll be okay.”
“Okay,” she says, and she believes him.
It’s barely ten minutes later that they see the helicopters overhead. Phoenix reluctantly lets go of Bob’s hand to stand up and start waving her arms. The nearest helicopter obviously sees them, landing some distance away. Medical staff are rushing toward them in an instant, all of them shouting over the roar of the chopper blades. They try and guide Phoenix away, but she stands her ground, making sure Bob is alright first.
“Lieutenant, you need to come with us,” one of them says firmly, and she just points at Bob in response. The staff gives her a look like she’s crazy and agrees to let her help them try and get the debris off Bob again. With many more people, they manage without hurting him, and in seconds Phoenix is dragging him away as they drop the piece of the plane back down.
“You’re okay?” she asks, scanning his legs. There are a few cuts, tears in his pants, but he’s already trying to get up on his feet, so she assumes it’s not bad.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says, holding onto her for support. “We’re okay.”
“Yeah,” Phoenix says. His callsign, she thinks, is appropriate- but she’ll choose to think it means badass on board anyways. “We’re okay.”