Chapter Text
The night was warm, and a soft breeze ruffled through my hair as I stepped out of the car. After a quick glance in the mirror to tighten my ponytail and freshen up my clear lip gloss, I made my way toward the Hard Deck—the only bar in town that seemed to buzz with life after dark.
I paused as I reached the door, looking up at the sky for a moment, tilting my head to catch a glimpse of the stars.
“Please give me strength to do this, mom,” I whispered, closing my eyes as emotion threatened to overwhelm me. “I’ve been waiting for this moment since I was a little girl. Please don’t let me mess it up now.”
With one final deep breath, I pushed the door open. The sounds of laughter and chatter spilled out into the air before I stepped inside, the door shutting behind me.
The bar was alive with energy. Uniformed personnel filled the space, some sitting at the bar, others attempting some kind of new dance—unsuccessfully, I might add—and a group playing pool at the far end of the room. My gaze immediately landed on the man I’d researched after receiving my invitation to the program.
I made my way toward him, shoulders back, feeling the weight of all those eyes on me.
He had just finished his shot, looking smug as he surveyed his opponents while taking a swig of his beer.
Great, he seems as arrogant in person as he did in his social media photos.
I approached confidently, extending my hand to shake his.
“Elizabeth Morrison. Callsign Raven. Looks like I’ll be your WSO for the upcoming months,” I said, trying to project the most confident version of myself.
He raised an eyebrow, offering a toothy grin as he shook my hand with force, as if trying to rip my arm off with the movement. I kept my stance steady, my smile tight, refusing to let him think his little power move impressed me.
“Well, I’ve been waiting for you to show up!” His voice was barely audible over the din of chatter. “Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman. But I’m sure you already knew that, right?”
Feeling my lips curl with a bit of disgust at his attitude, I replied, “I did know that, but only because I studied up on you—figured I should know what to expect working with you. And I also know that your teammates call you Hangman because you leave them out to dry on missions, focusing only on yourself. I hope you weren’t planning on doing that with me in the air, because I simply won’t allow it.”
His eyes widened as he looked around, scoffing loudly at the others in the room. “Are y’all hearing what I’m hearing?”
One of the few women in uniform stepped forward, giving Hangman a gentle push on the chest, not the least bit intimidated by him. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her eyes held a gleam of warm friendliness.
“I’m hearing what you’re hearing, and I’m loving it,” she said, turning to me with open arms.
“Finally, another woman in the group! I’ve been so sick of being surrounded by testosterone.” She gave me a tight hug, then whispered in my ear, “I already like you, Raven. Don’t let that douchebag get under your skin. He’s all talk. You’ll see, he’ll soften up soon enough.”
I returned the hug, relieved to finally have a woman to connect with. Growing up, I never had many female friends, and I always felt like I was missing some sort of connection with them. The only women in my life were my mom, aunt, and cousin, and while I loved them, I often longed for friendships with others who understood me in a different way.
Looking around for other familiar faces from the Academy, I was disappointed when I didn’t recognize anyone.
A nervous-looking guy was sitting at the bar near the pool table, eating peanuts from a paper cup. He’d been quiet so far, choosing to stay out of the conversation. When he noticed me watching him, he adjusted his glasses and gave me a small, polite smile.
He quickly shook the peanut shells off his uniform before standing up to shake my hand.
“Hi, I’m Bob. Nice to meet you, Elizabeth.”
I stepped back slightly, eyeing the peanuts in his hand.
“Hi, Bob. I’d shake your hand, but I’m allergic to peanuts and I’d rather not die tonight. I’m sure you understand!” I tried to make it light-hearted, hoping he wouldn’t think I was being rude or overly sensitive.
Bob immediately pulled his hand back, a look of panic on his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Can I do anything?”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ve had to be super careful about it for years, but I know how to manage. Most people don’t get how serious it is, so thanks for understanding,” I reassured him, thinking of the times I’d been made to feel ridiculous for having such a life-threatening allergy.
I refocused on the group as the game of pool continued, chatting with Bob and a few of the others while sipping my water. The conversation felt more relaxed now, the tension slowly starting to ease.
“Ellie, how did you get your callsign? Why ‘Raven’?” The man who had introduced himself as Coyote earlier asked, leaning casually on his pool stick.
“My uncle gave it to me, actually,” I replied, my smile tinged with a touch of sadness. “I’ve always wanted to make it to Top Gun since I was a kid, and he could see that. So, he started calling me by a callsign he made up in our everyday life.”
“Are you close to your uncle?”
“Yes, I’ve lived with his family since I was seven. You could say he’s the closest thing to a parental figure I’ve had in my life.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The conversation was edging into personal territory, and I hoped that answer would bring it to an end.
“Why didn’t you live with your parents?” Hangman asked suddenly, his tone blunt and intrusive.
“Hangman, you can’t just ask that. Stop being rude!” Phoenix’s voice snapped, and she slapped his chest with the back of her hand, her glare sharp.
Bob looked up from his chair, trying to ease the tension. “You don’t have to answer that, Elizabeth. We understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” he added, his voice nervous but kind.
I shot him a quick smile in thanks, appreciating his attempt to defuse the situation. But I stood up, determined to answer Hangman’s question myself. I locked eyes with him, my voice steady despite the sudden tightness in my chest.
“Both of my parents aren’t around anymore, and that’s all I’m going to say. I don’t know you well enough to tell you my whole life story, and that’s the end of the conversation.” My voice shook slightly at the end, but I did my best to mask it. Phoenix seemed to notice, though, and gently pressed her hand to my back before heading toward the bar, likely in search of another drink.
I sat back down, forcing a smile onto my face and eager to steer the conversation in a new direction.
“So, how did you all end up here? Do you guys already know each other?”
Phoenix, having just returned from the bar, sat down next to me with a sigh. “I have the unfortunate pleasure of having been in the Top Gun program with Hangman here,” she said, glancing at him with a playful but exasperated look. “And I also know Payback, Fanboy, and Coyote from there.”
“I don’t recognize anyone here, but I’m eager to get to know everyone! Being summoned for this special mission, whatever it is, must mean that all of you are great flyers” Bob jumped into the conversation, his voice tinged with eagerness as he tried to fit in.
Payback glanced around the room and then exclaimed, “Hey, Phoenix? Wasn’t Rooster supposed to be here too?”
I recognized that name, though I couldn’t place where from. My mind raced—then I remembered hearing my uncle talk about a “Rooster,” but I’d never actually met him.
“Rooster? What’s his civilian name?”
“Bradley Bradshaw,” Phoenix replied, her voice light and casual.
Oh. That was why the name felt familiar. My uncle had mentioned him often, but I’d never crossed paths with the guy.
Just then, a new group entered the bar, all except one wearing Navy uniforms.
“Bradshaw! Is that you?” Phoenix called out, squinting her eyes as she tried to make out the man’s face.
A tall man wearing a Hawaiian shirt approached the table, stopping to speak briefly with Phoenix before turning his attention to Hangman.
“Bradshaw. As I live and breathe.” Hangman grabbed the pool cue from Bob’s hands and gave Rooster a smirk that practically oozed with smugness.
“Hangman. You look… good.” Rooster’s voice was laced with dry humor.
“Well, I am good, Rooster. In fact, I’m too good to be true.”
“Hangman, you better stop before your ego gets too big to fit in the jet with us.” I stood up from my stool and moved closer to the conversation, unable to resist joining in.
From this angle, I could finally see the man fully, and it hit me. I was looking at Bradley Bradshaw. The Rooster I’d heard so much about.
The first thing I noticed about him was the mustache—thick, well-groomed, and very different from what I was used to. It suited him, though. Gave him a classic, almost effortless confidence. His brown hair was cropped short, and he wore aviators—though he'd just taken them off, revealing eyes that were both thoughtful and quietly intense when they met mine.
He smiled warmly and extended his hand, introducing himself.
"Bradley Bradshaw. Callsign Rooster. Hangman’s your pilot?"
"Apparently the gods of aviation weren’t on my side."
"My condolences," he smirked, purposely ignoring the middle finger Hangman was giving him from across the table. "Sorry, I didn’t catch your name…"
"Elizabeth Morrison," I replied, then shrugged. "Callsign Raven, but you can call me Ellie or Raven. No one calls me Elizabeth unless I’m in trouble."
Rooster held my gaze a beat longer, like he was trying to figure something out. When a flash of recognition sparked in his eyes, I quietly shook my head, then nodded toward the others, who were listening in a little too closely.
"Not here. Want to come outside?" I asked, eager to escape Hangman’s scrutinizing stare.
"Sure. Let me just grab a drink first. Want anything?"
"No thanks. I’m good with this," I said, holding up my glass of water.
I headed outside, settling onto the sand near the bar to wait for him. Tilting my head back, I looked up at the sky and sighed, the pressure of meeting new people slowly easing. It had always been hard for me—not because I didn’t enjoy their company, but because I had a bad habit of molding myself to fit whoever I was talking to. Adapting, adjusting, sometimes becoming someone else entirely just to make a good first impression.
My therapist called it a coping mechanism. She gave me a list of exercises to help break the pattern, to teach me how to just be. But unlearning twenty years of habit was easier said than done.
I hadn’t even noticed Rooster sitting next to me, his legs stretched out, elbows propped behind him as he leaned back. When I finally looked down from the sky, my eyes settled on his face. Something was weighing on him—I could see it in the crease of his brow, the way his fingers fidgeted with his drink. But I didn’t push.
“Talking to your mom?” he asked quietly, not looking at me.
So he knew who I was. That much was certain.
“Not right now, no. But I do, often.”
He nodded, exhaling softly. “I talk to my dad too,” he admitted, voice low. “I miss him every day, but being here… it’s harder. Everything reminds me of him.”
His gaze stayed fixed on the sea, lost somewhere in the rolling waves.
“Do the others know? That you’re Goose’s son?”
“No.” He shook his head, the words coming out with a quiet finality. “And I don’t want them to. It’s none of their business who my dad was. They’d just find ways to criticize me about it. You know how people are.”
I sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. “Yeah, I get that. I feel the same way. If they knew I was Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky’s niece, I probably wouldn’t be taken seriously. Being a woman in the Navy is hard enough as it is, but if nepotism allegations started flying, it’d make everything ten times worse.”
“Mav told me about you, you know? That’s how I recognized you when you told me your name. Back when Ice could still talk, he was always talking about you.” He looked at me, trying to gage my reaction to his mention of my uncle’s illness.
My stomach twisted at the mention of it. Even though I knew it was coming, hearing it out loud made it feel heavier—more real. I couldn’t run away from it anymore, people here knew about it. I forced myself to nod, swallowing against the lump in my throat.
"Yeah," I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. "I know."
I looked away for a moment, focusing on the water ahead, grounding myself in its steady movement. Ice had always been larger than life to me—invincible. The thought of him struggling, in pain, losing his voice—it felt wrong.
He had given up so much for me. The moment he found out I needed a home, he dropped everything, took me in, made me his own. And now, when he needed me most, I couldn’t do the same. The weight of that truth was unbearable.
Taking a slow breath, I met his eyes again and managed a small, tight smile. "He always did like to talk."
He reached across and gently squeezed my shoulder. “If you ever need to talk—about anything, or even about your mom—I’m here. I get it. We’ve gotta stick together, right?”
His words were simple, but they carried a weight of understanding, and I couldn’t help but feel a small but comforting weight lift off my shoulders.
I sent him a quick smile, the kind that held both gratitude and something deeper. Not only did I know that he would respect the privacy of my relationship with Ice, but I also felt like, in that moment, I had made a genuine connection. A new friend.
Rooster stood up, extending his hand to me. “We should probably head back inside before the others start wondering where we are.”
I gladly accepted his hand, stumbling slightly as I got to my feet due to the loose sand beneath me. He steadied me with a hand on my back, and kept it there as we walked toward the door, his touch reassuring and steady until we were back inside.
Rooster stopped suddenly, right in front of the upright piano. His gaze shifted to me, mischief dancing in his eyes as he dropped down onto the bench with a dramatic flair. He signaled to the speakers, giving them a pointed gesture that clearly meant "cut the music." The chatter in the room dropped almost instantly, and I could feel a small crowd forming around us, Phoenix and Bob standing on either side of me.
With a teasing smile, Rooster’s fingers began to lightly press the keys, the sound filling the room as he built up suspense, clearly setting the stage for something.
But just before he could play any melody, a loud bell rang from the bar, followed by a roar of excitement from the group. "Overboard!" they chanted in unison, and without warning, Hangman and a couple of others rushed toward the bar, grabbing a man who’d been lounging there and dragging him towards the door. The poor guy barely had time to register what was happening before they tossed him outside with zero ceremony—like a sack of potatoes.
I couldn’t see the man’s face, but I could tell by the look on his body language that this was definitely not the way he expected his night to go. The whole bar erupted into laughter and cheers, the energy felt electric.
As Rooster launched into the song, the energy of the room exploded with him. “You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!” he belted out, his voice loud and confident, instantly pulling the crowd in. Almost everyone joined in, their voices merging into one chaotic but joyous sound.
“Too much love drive a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill!”
“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!” we all sang in unison, laughter bubbling up as we clung to each other, caught in the contagious excitement.
But as the music continued, something shifted inside me. I stopped singing for a moment and looked around the room. I saw the other pilots and WSOs, smiling, laughing, and singing together. The scene in front of me felt so genuine, so full of camaraderie. And it hit me—this was it. The group I had longed for. The group I was finally a part of.
A deep, warm calm settled in my chest, a sense of belonging I hadn’t realized I needed. Chills ran up my spine as I took in the laughter, the unity, the lightness of the moment. I found new friends in Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob—and I could feel the others, the ones who’d known each other long before me, slowly accepting me into their group.
I took a shaky breath, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
I think I’ve finally found the place where I belong.