Chapter Text
NAS Lemoore, California, 2011
It’s four minutes past midnight when he gets the call. Work has once again kept Iceman Kazansky chained to his desk, and although he would like to laugh at the white out that covers the paperwork, it mostly makes him mourn for what he cannot have. He accepts the call. The voice on the other side is unfamiliar, but clearly acquainted with who he is.
“Rear Admiral, I apologise for the lateness of this call. But I possess some information I believe you would be interested in knowing.”
Grabbing the coffee that sits at the edge of his desk, Iceman responds with a neutral but confused tone of voice:
“And of what nature is this information?”
“Personal, sir.” The woman appears to be rather nervous herself, with her breath hitching slightly when she addresses him.
“I see. What is it you needed to tell me so urgently you contacted me in the middle of the night?” He keeps his tone polite, if only to ease her audible nerves.
“Sir, are you aware you have a son?”
The coffee cup falls to the ground, breaking, covering the floor and carpet as well as his newly cleaned dress shoes in liquid, as the stoic man known for always being nothing short of pristine crumples. He has a son. A son who no doubt hates him, and a mother he has no clue of who could be. In that moment, Tom Kazansky is the opposite of his callsign, and all it represents. For in an instant, he has become the ultimate failure.
It had all begun with the petals. Those goddamned petals. Ever since the day they first appeared, in a bathroom sink aboard the USS Enterprise , he had known his life was not destined for happiness or even comfort. After all, the gene for the disease was extremely rare, and if one were unfortunate enough to develop a case of unrequited love, it was a guaranteed death sentence unless the other person reciprocated. And in Tom Kazansky’s case, the chances of that happening were absolute zero. Not that it would have mattered much regardless, given who his heart’s desire was. DADT was a bitch.
So there he stood, working tremendously to not start crying, knowing that the life he had built for himself was nothing but a waste of time, and that the potential he knew he possessed was something he would never be able to fulfil. It had taken him several minutes to feel and appear presentable again, and he had left the bathroom looking like nothing had happened. He had carried on with his life as best he could, quietly pursuing treatment options that he eventually ran out of, and never speaking a word of it to anyone except his physician, and, eventually, his personal assistant, after she had caught him in the middle of a coughing fit that resulted in a neat pile of mandevilla petals on his desk. It was lonely, living a lie, but he managed. After all, he had to.
But despite him keeping the disease a secret, it still greatly influenced both his decisions and his passions. The second his love had started getting in trouble with his superiors, Iceman had begun pursuing promotion after promotion, hoping he could one day reach a point where his words and rank would outweigh everyone else’s, and his love would be safe from their wrath. Similarly, when he learned he had made the devastating decision to pull his godson’s application for the Naval Academy, Ice had quietly arranged for a way Bradley could get in the next year, knowing that his love’s hands had been forced by Carol’s death wish. There was truly nothing he would not do for him, even if it meant his own destruction. For such is the curse of love like his, it will take everything away just for their loves to have a little happiness.
Now, the disease has led him here. Ice stares down at the piece of paper proving what he’d been told so abruptly over the phone. “ 47.5 % match ” it reads, the genetic similarity between a father and a son. He has a son. A sharp knock on his door interrupts his train of thinking, and he quickly hides the document in a folder whose contents he mostly ignores, before calling the person in.
“You seem agitated,” his assistant comments as she walks in the door. “Is there anything you need to talk about?”
He waves his hand dismissively, hoping it to be enough for her to not demand an explanation.
“No. At least, not right now. I had a long night.”
“You always do.” She gives him a sympathetic smile, before moving on to why she had come in in the first place. “I’m here to relay a message. A certain someone managed to piss off his superior, again, a Rear Admiral this time actually, and his assistant called me to let us know.”
Although she does not say it directly, Iceman can hear her unsaid words regardless. ‘They know you have a fondness for him.’
“What did he do this time? I can’t imagine there’s much more he can do wrong before he begins to repeat his mistakes, and even with my current rank I doubt there’s much I can do to remedy such an event.” Iceman keeps his voice even, despite the rush of nerves that always comes when he is told his love has messed up.
“Well, it’s not that he did anything wrong, per se.” She pretends not to notice the way his shoulders fall down at those words, as he relaxes ever so slightly. “He was offered a promotion, and a quite significant one at that, as a thank you for whatever it was he had done for the Rear Admiral, and the bastard had apparently looked at him oddly before leaving the room. He was not even dismissed. And to make matters even worse, the offer had come from further up, and the Admiral was only to relay the message. They seemed quite convinced he would accept it this time, too.”
“Do you know if there’s a way for us to access the information regarding that promotion? I want to see if there’s anything I can do to make him accept it. I’ll take over the responsibility if I have to.”
Ice rarely interacts with him directly these days. It always makes the disease flare back up, and leaves him a little weaker when it calms down. Even saying or hearing his name now will prompt a coughing fit, and he is not interested in making things even worse than they already are, especially not when he has overheard rumours he may receive a promotion himself in not too long. A promotion to Vice Admiral would make his life infinitely easier, and by extension, grant him the ability to oversee his love to a much higher degree. But if that is to continue to remain a possibility, he will have to deal with the situations of the present first.
“Well, I did ask his assistant to speak with the Admiral regarding a potential transfer, and she did seem confident that her boss would agree enthusiastically. I suspect you’ll receive a call directly from him soon, to sort out the details.” She gives him a smirk as she tells him, and he barely resists the urge to roll his eyes at her antics. They are supposed to be professional, after all.
“You are the very best. Thank you.” Iceman dismisses her and settles in to wait for the call, trying his best to muster up the energy to be confronted with the name he would rather not hear. He does not have to wait long, barely fifteen minutes, before the telltale ring chimes through the room, and he becomes RADM Admiral Kazansky, the persona he is so known for.
When Jake Seresin gets the order, he is sure he is about to be dishonourably discharged. He can even guess the reasoning behind it. As much as it’s been preached that DADT is there to protect people like him, Jake knows just as well as anyone else that that is a lie. Living the life he’s dreamed of means living a lie. Especially now.
He’d done the DNA test mostly out of curiosity. Carrying the gene for the disease he now suffers from is rarer than it ever has been, so when his designated medic had quietly slipped the pamphlet into his bag after a check up, he had jumped on the opportunity. It’s too late to prevent the disease from affecting him, but if he can play even the smallest role in making sure future generations won’t suffer the same fate, there is no way he can just move past it. As a thank you, they offered to run a full scan of his DNA and check for potential relatives amongst the other participants, which he accepted. Better to be informed than living in fear. He has done enough of that already. The Navy, for all its flaws, had been his salvation, and he had hoped to repay that for as long as he was physically able to. But apparently his time has already run out.
He has met the Rear Admiral only once before, during his time at Top Gun. He was not even an Admiral back then, but Jake can still remember the stance with which he stood, commanding respect and obedience. He had been a guest lecturer, teaching them the ins and outs of the experience of actual danger. Given his reputation, there was no doubt that he knew the topic better than perhaps anyone else in the Navy, save for his wingman. Privately, Jake had begun to idolise the man after that encounter, wishing he too could hold that much power using only something as simple as a stance. He had also silently hoped he would get to meet the man in a more relaxed setting, and be properly introduced to him. Well, today was apparently his lucky day, since he would finally be introduced to the now Admiral. Alone.
Fuck. Jake is so screwed.
Two days later, Jake walks the long corridor that leads to the office space reserved for Admirals. He keeps his head held high, as is expected of him, willing to keep the image that everything is fine, he is still as cocky as ever, intact.
“Greetings, Lieutenant.” The woman who meets him in the waiting area is clearly a secretary of some kind, and with the way she’s looking at him, Jake makes the educated guess that she works for Admiral Kazansky.
“Good evening, ma’am. I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” Jake is proud of how steady he keeps his voice given how unnatural a meeting like the one he has been called in for is.
“Indeed I do. The Admiral is just finishing up some business that came up unexpectedly, but as soon as he informs me he is done, I’ll let you in. I know the nature of the meeting has been kept dubious, but I can assure you that you will understand why as soon as it is explained to you.”
Well, that explained a lot. Perhaps she is simply being nice about it. Jake knows decorum is important for officers like Kazansky, so it would simply not do to have a Lieutenant crying outside his office before the meeting has even happened. Therefore, as she walks away, Jake settles into the most basic of relaxed stances he knows. It’s simple, it’s routine, and it helps him push away the fears currently ravaging his brain, as he prepares to greet his idol. “ How ironic, isn’t it? ” Jake thinks to himself. “ The man I wish to become is the man who will crush my dreams .” Subconsciously, he begins to drum his fingers against his back, a habit he has tried to rid himself of for forever but never succeeded at. Waiting, being patient in general, is a skill he has never learned, so Jake tries his best to entertain himself as he waits. He counts the number of plants in the room (seven), follows the clock for a full minute, and is in the middle of counting the number of tiles on the floor when Kazansky’s assistant returns.
“He will see you now,” is all she says. Jake nods, and follows her to the door of his office, where the man himself is currently standing. Jake stops a full two metres away from him, and raises his arm to salute a superior, for what may be the last time.
Tom “Iceman” Kazansky is never nervous. He worries, he gets adrenaline rushes when he flies, but the feeling of butterflies in his stomach is one he has never experienced (it is a blatant lie, of course. When one is friends with the person he calls his love, one is always nervous). But the feeling he’s having whilst he’s finishing the paperwork for yet another mess of his love’s creation, stalling the meeting he himself arranged, is perhaps the closest he’s ever come. His heart is pounding in his ears, and he does not even dare look down for the fear that the ground has swallowed his feet. Whatever happens in the next few minutes will forever change his life, no matter the outcome, and he knows he will forever remember it. With all of it pulsing in his mind, he signals his assistant to let Jake Seresin in.
The man before him is nothing like what his file suggested. He stands to salute him, as is proper, but the look in his eyes is the furthest away from the cocky persona his superiors have remarked on in their reports. If anything, his slightly blown pupils remind Ice of himself when he was that age, always afraid the next meeting with his superiors would be the last.
“At ease, please, Lieutenant. And come in.” Jake nearly flinches at the sound of the Admiral’s voice. His tone is heavy, and doused with just a bit of sadness Jake is unable to place. He nods in response, and follows the Admiral into the office.
“Sir, before you begin, I must assure you that whatever reports of my behaviour you have received are incorrect. I know that is not enough to prevent a discharge, but I must try.” It takes everything in him not to cry as he speaks, the weight of the meeting wearing heavily on his shoulders.
“Reports? Lieutenant, were you informed of the nature of this meeting?”
“Not exactly, sir, but given the circumstances there is only one thing that would warrant an invitation to your office, sir.” The Admiral merely raises an eyebrow at Jake in response.
“Discharge. Yes, I’m aware that I’m jumping the gun here a bit, but I just can’t think of any other reason why you would invite me here.”
Poor kid. Ice forces himself to slip somewhat out of his Admiral persona, even if it contradicts every other instinct in his body.
“While I can understand why that is the conclusion you came to, I can reassure you that that is not why I called you here. Even if that is what you may wish it was once I do tell you why you’re actually here. Sit.”
“Sir?” Jake sits down in the offered chair.
From a drawer in his desk, Ice pulls out a pamphlet.
“The genetic cause of the mysterious fatal love disease. Are you familiar with it?” Out of all the directions Jake thought the conversation could go, the study was not one of them. He’d tried to put it out of his mind, thinking it would never come up again unless they required he do further testing. Yet here a superior officer, an Admiral no less, who technically should have no way of even knowing that Jake had it, was asking him if he knew of the project.
His silence speaks louder than any words could have done.
The Admiral simply raises an eyebrow again, clearly understanding why Jake had refused to answer. “Well, I participated in this study as well. That would be a story for another time, what matters now is whether or not you recall the offer they made as a thank you for participating.”
This time, Jake nods, hesitant.
Taking a moment to compose himself, Ice takes a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. “Well, I too accepted the offer. I have very little close family left, and since the gene is as rare as it is, I believed it would be beneficial to see whether or not I had distant relatives who shared my, or rather our, predicament.”
“So you do know then, that I have it, not just the gene.” All decorum Jake may have possessed leaves his body at that moment. His deepest secret lies in the hands of this man, a stranger who could crumble Jake’s world with only his word. As he sinks into the chair, trying to make himself as little as possible, a hand takes his.
“It’s ok. I promise. There’s a reason why you’re here.” Ice restrains himself from putting “son” at the end. It is too early for that.
“What reason could there possibly be- wait, are you saying the two of us are distantly related? Is that why I’m here?”
Ice shakes his head. “No. Not exactly.” He pulls out another paper from his desk, this time a report, from what Jake could see.
“Six weeks ago, I got a call in the middle of the night from the office that carries out these tests. They said they had urgent news for me. The next day I got this,” at which he places the report in front of Jake, “in the mail. It is completely authentic, I verified it myself.” He lets Jake take a look before forcing out the words that had weighed on him since the night of the call.
“They told me I had a son. A son who shares my fate.”
The report slips out of Jake’s hands.
“I know it is very unbecoming of me to spring this upon you this way, but I felt it was unfair that only I was allowed this information. My history is apparently restricted information.”
A blank stare meets his eyes. Then, a blink, as if his eyes are not used to the light. Then comes the heavy sigh. Finally, a tear runs down the side of his cheek. Jake blinks rapidly in an attempt to drive them away. Failing miserably, he settles for calming breaths, trying to get over the initial shock.
“Sir, are you saying that you’re my dad? As in, my real dad?”
“I know it’s been rude of me to push this on you. I shouldn’t have-”
“No!” Jake’s voice is unrecognisable to even himself. Standing up, he tries to compose himself enough to get the necessary words out.
“I don’t know how much you know about me. I know we all do background checks and whatever else, but I don’t know what you have on my file, or if you’ve even read it.” It takes everything in Ice not to stand up and hug the man like there is no tomorrow. “I didn’t have the greatest homelife. My mum, she-” Deep breaths, Jake. Keep going. “She couldn’t get over losing my older brother, so I was always just a shadow in the background for her. I cared for her way more than she ever raised me. I can’t even recall her ever telling me she loved me.” Jake forces himself to look at the wall behind the Admiral, focusing on the Top Gun trophy so carefully placed there, as if it ranked above everything else. “She died a year after I joined the Navy. I can’t even say I was sad, because that woman was never a mother to me. But even though I don’t see her as my mum, she was still way better than my ‘dad’.”
No longer able to resist, Ice stands up and comes around the desk, restricting his contact to a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. His heart breaks for the young pilot, who has so clearly experienced more loss and pain than love in his life.
“I guess the best way to say it is that he was a drunk. I don’t know if he did anything else, and frankly I don’t care.” Jake pulls away, eyes cast downwards. His body appears to suddenly have gone rigid, as if he is a block of stone and not a human. “Mum tried to cover up the worst of it, but it was so bad she didn’t have a chance. He was always drunk, and always angry. I could do everything perfectly and he would still be mad.” The way his arms come up to wrap himself in a hug breaks Ice’s heart. His son has never had anyone to give him comfort the way it’s clear he craves. Even so, he does not touch Jake again, understanding that their relationship is far from being that familial.
“And even though he never hit us, he would break whatever few possessions we had, or sometimes steal them and sell them, to get what he wanted.” There’s a sheen over his eyes now, as if Jake is remembering one of those possessions, and Ice wants to buy him every stuffed animal he can find in a ten mile radius. Jake has never gotten to be a kid, that much is obvious to him now.
“When I was fifteen, he out of the blue just left us to die. I hated him then, and I still do now. He’s everything I don’t want to be or become.” Jake is clutching his own forearms as he spits the last words out. His sole tear has been joined by a waterfall of others, covering his cheeks in a stained sheen of water as he speaks. His body is shaking, if it is in anger or sadness Ice can’t tell, and it breaks him. Yet, Jake is not done.
“And now you’re telling me I have a second chance? But you thought it would ruin me to tell me because surely breaking up a family never goes well. I guess the universe is laughing at us, because there is no family left for you to break up. I have no one. So I guess the only thing you could do is become my family.”
That is it. Ice is going to kill that despicable excuse of a man if he ever finds him. Instead, he pulls Jake into a crushing hug, willing himself to be Tom Kazansky, the man who lives beneath all the layers and personas of Ice, Iceman, and Admiral Kazansky.
“Son,” and God if the way Jake’s arms tighten around him as he says it doesn’t make him melt even more. “Of course I’ll be your family. You are mine already. I don’t have much either, just my sister, Sarah, but if that’s enough for you, I’ll be your dad. Forever from here on out.”
Jake pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes. The little boy in him seems to break through as he asks if Ice would promise him that.
“I promise. You’re never going to be alone again.”
The meeting after that is much the same. They both need time to compose themselves before continuing on with their respective days, and frankly, lives, and there is no way Jake can leave the man who has willingly accepted him, even if he doesn’t know Jake’s other biggest secret yet.
“How long have you had it?” The question has been pondering Jake’s mind for the last few minutes, and he figures, if you’re putting it all out there, why not ask the big questions too.
“What, Hanahaki? About 25 years. Yeah, I know, really long.” His response to Jake’s shocked face almost makes the younger man laugh. “I tried every treatment under the sun, even ones the FDA didn’t approve of. Nothing worked, it had progressed too far. So I found a middle ground. I can’t ever directly be in contact with my love, I can’t even say h- their name. But so long as I go through others, and don’t ignore them entirely, the disease remains stagnant. I won’t get better, but I won't get worse either. I hate it, what it’s done to me, but I have no other choice. If I tried to get in contact directly again, the doctor’s prognosis is that I would most likely pass away within six months. And I’d be completely at the mercy of the illness long before then.”
Oh shit. And Jake thinks he has it bad. Here his dad is, living with it for longer than Jake has been alive. Though that does raise the question of how, if he has been living with it for that long, did he end up fathering Jake.
Ice can guess the questing Jake is trying to answer.
“Well, having it doesn’t mean I was celibate. Rather the opposite.”
“Ok, dad, that’s gross.” He smiles, before it promptly falls off his face, as he realises what he’s said. Tom, though, seems to brighten immensely at the slip-up. Relieved, Jake nudges him to continue.
“Well, for a period between ‘87 and ‘89 I tried to hook up enough to get them out of my system. Obviously that didn’t work, but at the time that was the recommended treatment, so I went with it. Your mother must have been one of them at some point, but I was also quite the drinker back then, so I’m unsure if I would remember her.”
“That sounds miserable. I’m glad you moved on from that.” Jake can’t even imagine thinking of anyone other than- Oh no, dangerous territory. Abort mission. At least he can understand why there was drinking involved. Suffering from the disease is cruel in the way that one can not simply move on from it once it reaches a certain point. When the love is too deep, too permanent, it will always remain, and with it, the illness.
“At least something good came from it.” Tom smiles.
“Don’t flatter me dad. You haven’t even seen me fly yet.”