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Maverick laughed as he leaned forward to draw the wet cloth over the cockpit, surprised at just how dirty it really was. He swore that he had cleaned it the day prior (kind of) and hadn’t noticed the few stubborn patches of grime until he had been up in the air. It had been noticeable enough that Merlin had commented on it, and it was then that Maverick realized he couldn’t put it off any longer and decided to give the jet a much needed cleaning, claiming that he could do it better than any of the mechanics. He had gotten some pushback from the instructors about dealing with his jet with no one else around, but in true Maverick fashion he hadn’t listened to reason and had dodged evening PT to finish up. Somehow he had convinced the ever rigid Iceman to join him, as after their graduation from Top Gun into being part time instructors had granted them a little more leeway. Ice hadn’t wanted Maverick to be by himself with the jet, partially of fear that he would get into some kind of trouble or do something idiotic, and it was often easier to go with Maverick than against him.
“And then I told them to mind their own business and if I want to change the coursework they have to read, then I will,” Maverick continued as he wrapped one foot around the side of the cockpit and leaned back to look at Ice as he continued cleaning. “Don’t you remember them doing that to us? We had to learn how to change parts of the engine if need be? Times have certainly changed.”
“It’s a new generation, Maverick,” Ice pointed out, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. “They’re used to certain things and it’s difficult for them to pivot to another way of thinking.”
“You make it sound like they’re not made for this.”
“Chosen, more like. It’s a little different.”
Maverick muttered shortly under his breath as he looked up and saw that the cleaning solution he had been using had fallen into the backseat of the open cockpit, wedged behind his seat. He groaned to himself as he leaned forward, legs wrapped halfway in, halfway out of the cockpit as his fingers sprawled in an attempt to graze the bottle just enough to pull it close so he didn’t have to get up just to sit back down.
“Mav, be careful,” Ice warned.
Maverick rolled his eyes. “Ice, I’ve done this how many times. I don’t need you to—“ He was suddenly cut off as his left leg slipped as his body bucked forward. Desperately he scrambled to grab hold of the side of the cockpit. His fingers couldn’t find a strong hold and he gasped as the world turned sideways and he met the ground with a solid thud.
Immediately Maverick knew something was wrong the moment he struck, the full impact landing on his left shoulder. He heard and felt the sickening pop first, the air knocked out of him second, stealing his voice. All he could do was groan in pain as he tried to turn onto his back, flashed of pain radiating from his shoulder down his arm even into his wrist. Movement was constricted to say the least, and any thought Maverick had of moving was immediately thwarted as breathing alone was enough to send pain washing over him.
“Maverick,” Ice cried as he closed the distance between them in a single bound. He dropped to his knees and held his arms hovered over Maverick’s body, blood roaring in his eyes at seeing Maverick writhe in pain. “Shit, that looks bad.”
Maverick followed Ice’s gaze to look at his shoulder, warmth spreading over his face as he realized that his arm was splayed at an odd angle. He could hardly feel his fingers aside from numbness. His lower half twisted as he bent his knees and arched his back, though the feeling didn’t help.
“My shoulder. My shoulder.” Maverick’s voice rose in pitch as his eyes found Ice. He tried to hide the fear that he knew that he was fighting. This was a simple injury; he couldn’t overreact with Ice right there beside him. He had watched that man have a nail driven through his foot and not even flinch, yet here he was with a wretched shoulder and now he could hardly breathe. “M’think I landed wrong on it.”
“Damnit, Maverick. I’d say you did more than that.” Ice reached out to lightly graze Maverick’s arm by the wrist. The second he touched him, Maverick’s face twisted in discomfort. He tried to breathe through the pain so he didn’t vomit, though his stomach lurched all the same.
“Can you help me up?”
Ice frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Something else could be wrong and I don’t want to make it worse. Let me call medical.”
At the very thought of doctors around him, poking and prodding, Maverick immediately began to hyperventilate. The outer edges of his vision turned fuzzy as he fought to sit up. He immediately regretted it as his shoulder flopped forward as he nearly toppled to the side, arm limply trailing after him.
“Okay, okay, stop!” Ice reached out and braced his hands around Maverick’s shoulder, fingers intertwined as he cradled Maverick’s shoulder as gingerly as he could. Every movement brought Maverick more pain, and no matter how he tried to downplay it, his entire arm felt like it was on fire. “Mav, you’re only going to make it worse. I really have to call medical and they can send someone to look at you.”
Maverick’s mind raced, Ice’s words going in and out as Maverick attempted to process what had happened. Medical. Infirmary. Doctors. Those were all words that would immediately send his heart racing and the color from his face. He could practically feel his blood pressure rising, which was doing him no favors for his sudden dizziness. He was only partially aware of what Ice was saying, and the urgency at which he spoke. He didn’t often see Ice flustered, and never when it had come to Maverick himself.
“S-Savant.”
Ice tipped his head as he leaned in closer. “What did you say.”
“Call Savant,” Maverick grounded out. The rigidity of his jaw was prominent as he rocked forward, so the weight of his shoulder was dropped forward.
Ice nodded as his slender fingers retracted from Maverick’s shoulder joint in favor of reaching for his phone. It didn’t take long for him to travel down his contacts until he found the number that he was looking for. As much as he didn’t want to, he forced himself to stand and walk toward the hanger door, which was often the only place his got reception. He kept himself within eyeshot of Maverick, stomach twisting as he watched Maverick buckle in discomfort.
Maverick could faintly hear Ice’s voice over the pounding of blood roaring in his ears. The pain was beginning to ebb just enough that he could begin to categorize his thoughts. He turned his chin upwards, eyes roving downwards until they caught sight of his arm. It was folded forward, the joint a couple centimeters lower than what it should’ve been. It took all his concentration to wriggle his fingers, the sensation not painful, just awkward.
“Fuck,” Maverick hissed, frustration ringing in his voice. “That’s what I get for being an idiot. How are they gonna fix this one?”
Maverick wasn’t given long to wonder as Ice jogged back over and sat down beside him. “Savant is on his way. He says it sounds like you dislocated your shoulder and maybe tore a ligament, but an MRI will have to confirm it.”
“M-MRI?”
“Yeah, you know the machine that you lay down and it—“
“I know what an MRI is,” Maverick interrupted, eyes stone cold and voice like venom.
Ice stared at him uneasily. He had known Maverick for quite a while now and he was blunt, sure, but not a downright asshole. “Mav, did you hit your head or anything when you fell?”
Agitation glittered in Maverick’s gaze as he turned his head away, instantly wishing he hadn’t when the pain from his shoulder only pulsed upwards into his neck and across his upper back. “I really don’t think I-I need that,” Maverick continued as his breathing began to quicken. “Can’t Savant just pop it back in and I get right back to work? I can’t be off. I need to be here.”
“Okay, who are you and what have you done with Maverick?” Although Ice’s voice was light and teasing, there was still some seriousness to be found. Never before had he heard Maverick quite this distressed, especially to turn him practically seething over it.
Maverick rolled his eyes as he continued to hold his arm surely. He had finally found a position where it didn’t cause him more pain just to hold it. It may not have been a long term solution, but it was something. “Can we just not talk right now, please? I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
That quieted Ice almost instantly. The light haired pilot gave him space, phone rested in front of him just in case Savant called back. It would be a tossup if the call actually went through, but Ice was unwilling to leave Maverick no matter how testy the younger pilot became. Something was clearly going on with him and Ice wasn’t about to just leave him at one of his more vulnerable moments.
The pair had hardly waited ten minutes when the sound of boots striking the ground in solid intervals came toward them. Ice looked up first to see the familiar doctor in his scrubs with his white doctor’s coat nearly falling down his shoulders. He carried with him a black medical bag while a stethoscope hung loosely around his neck. He hardly could deal with too much of an emergency with the items he had, but it would be a start.
“Let’s see what we have going on,” Savant breezed through as he gave a nod of acknowledgement to Ice while keeping his attention on Maverick. His black satchel was set beside him as he reached out to take Maverick’s shoulder joint in hand. A deep stretch pulled through Maverick’s arm as it was lifted as high as he could allow it before the pinching pain returned. Maverick immediately winced when the joint passed by his socket, back arching backwards as he tried to pull away from Savant’s grip.
“What are we looking at, Sav,” Ice pressed when impatience reached its cusp.
Savant gave a sharp nod and motioned to Ice. “Definitely have a dislocation. Luckily we can pop it back in here and then transfer him to the infirmary where we can run some more tests, preform an MRI just to make sure nothing is torn.”
Ice tried to stop Savant from saying that word, but the moment it had left the doctor’s mouth, Maverick squirmed away from Savant’s grasp. He struggled not to yelp in pain as the weight of his arm and the dislocation had his wrist hitting the ground hard, a jolt of pain striking through him. His eyes closed tightly as he fought the rising tides of nausea that left saliva pooling in his mouth.
“I don’t need an MRI,” Maverick argued forcefully. “Just put my shoulder back in, Sav. I don’t need anything else.”
Savant frowned. “I understand that it may seem like overkill, but with an injury like this now that I’m here, the Navy won’t clear you to fly without my report and I’m not comfortable unless we preform those tests.” Savant’s features softened as he saw the panic in Maverick’s eyes. He had seen plenty of soldiers with that same expression, blind sighted terror that overwhelmed a person. “The worst part will be popping this back in. Everything else will be a breeze.”
Maverick was already shaking his head vigorously, gnawing on his bottom lip until he was sure he could taste blood. “Can you just put back first?”
Warmth appeared on Savant’s face when he smiled, which instantly eased some of Maverick’s discomfort. He wasn’t expecting it, though he had known Savant for nearly as long as he’d known Ice, maybe even longer. He trusted the man explicitly, and knew that he was only doing what he did to help. It may not have stopped the fear, not really, but the paralyzing fear had simmered down to an uncomfortable anxiety.
“Ice, can you help me?” Ice didn’t hesitate to slide next to Savant. “Take Maverick’s hand right here, right at his wrist and elbow.” Ice grasped loosely at Maverick’s wrist and again at his elbow, looking to Savant for further instructions. “Just hold it there and I’ll do most of the work. Maverick, keep on breathing and you’ll feel a moment of sharp pain and then things should feel drastically better.”
Maverick did as Savant said, counting to three in his head and taking a deep breath, before releasing on five. He felt his heart rate begin to slow as his eyes fluttered shut. Savant took that opportunity to bend his knees and plant his feet surely on the ground. He pulled Maverick’s upper half forward, cradling Maverick’s shoulder while Ice kept the rest of Maverick’s arm steady. Savant rocked back and forth lightly, the weight of Maverick’s arm melding with the feel of the joint. On a final exhale, Savant snapped Maverick’s shoulder back into socket with a satisfying pop. Maverick let out a sudden gasp of pain and recoiled his arm from Ice’s grasp, wrist rolling until the pain rapidly began to fade as he looked back to the doctor in awe.
“Like magic, huh?”
Maverick was hardly ever left speechless. Normally he had a million and one comebacks to absolutely any situation. Yet, when it came to this when he instantly felt a whole lot better, all he could do was nod aimlessly.
Savant took Maverick’s shoulder back in hand, testing the range of motion. He met slight resistance when the shoulder was hyperextended back, the familiar twinge radiating from the socket. He couldn’t feel any obvious cause for concern. He watched Maverick’s face intently for signs of pain or discomfort, and when he was satisfied with the result, Savant let his arm go.
“But, I still want to do more tests,” Savant continued.
Maverick swallowed hard, the lump difficult to bypass. He felt himself begin to clam up as his blood pressure began to rise. He reached out with his good arm and reached back to catch himself before falling back. He would not pass out, damnit!
“Maverick.” An arm tightened around his bicep of his good arm. A quick look revealed that person to be a very worried Ice. “Hey, you still with me?”
Maverick saw Ice’s lips moving, unable to catch a hint of what he said. All he could do was guess, and when his own mouth opened, a strained squeak came out. “No more tests, pease.”
While Ice fumbled for what to say, Savant took Maverick’s wrist in hand and pressed two fingers against his radial pulse. He counted on his watch for almost a minute, did some quick mental math, before setting it back down. Ice looked to the doctor worryingly, a hundred questions balanced on the tip of his tongue, insecurity tipping him back to silence.
“Tell you what, Mav. We still have to do these tests just for my piece of mind to clear you.” Maverick let out a rattling breath, blood pressure beginning to rise. “But, Iceman can stay with you if you’d like. He can stay in the room and I’ll be there too. That way you’re not alone. Does that sound like a compromise?”
Maverick squinted his eyes. His head gave a violent bob downwards, breath wheezing through his nose.
Savant straightened as he rose to his feet with Ice doing the same. Maverick looked to both of them before trying the same, only for his shoulder to immediately protest and he was left buckling forward. Ice managed to catch him before he could fall, arms wrapped around his waist as Maverick processed exactly what the older pilot was doing. It didn’t take long for Savant to do the same, and with both of them Maverick was able to stand while leaning on them for support. His legs wobbled as he took a step, Ice and Savant the only things keeping him from toppling right over.
“We have you, Maverick,” Savant assured as he took a step in time with Maverick. “Anything I help you with, I’ve helped Thunder with.”
“Thunder.” Maverick’s voice rang clear as the familiar name entered his brain. “M’want to talk to Thunder.”
Amusement shone in Savant’s gaze as he gave a nod of agreement. “I think I can arrange that if you think that would help things?”
Ice had never heard Maverick so sure to talk to someone. He also hadn’t seen Thunder in a bit as he had been off on medical leave for an undisclosed reason. Savant hadn’t given any other information on it, claiming that Thunder would be back in a different role. There had been whispers about what had happened with no one having the full story. Savant had not been receptive to most questions, yet when Maverick mentioned him, Savant didn’t hesitate to want to include him. That had to be a good sign, right?
“Alright, one MRI and one Thunder coming right up.”