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He feels so cold.
They'd pried Goose's lifeless body out of Mav's grip ten minutes ago, but his fingers still feel frozen in shape. As if he's still trying to cling to his best friend that little bit longer in the pathetic hope that it might bring him back.
That he wasn't actually gone and Mav wasn't alone.
"Mav?"
The call of his name feels distant; muddling through the sticky tar of his mind where he's clouded by grief. He feels the weight of something draped over his shoulders, thinks it might be a blanket. His clothes are soaked to the bone. His wings tucked back into his body.
Mav had fanned them out after they'd ejected. As they fell. Goose hadn't even had the time. Mav had hit the water with a wet crash; water splashing up all around him, his life jacket inflating around his neck and chest. Swimming to Goose with waterlogged wings, he'd shouted his name, hoping he was just knocked unconscious, but his fingers had slid over cold skin.
Skin colder than someone who still drew breath, whose heart still beat, should have.
Calling Goose's name - "Nick! Oh please. Wake up. Goose, don't leave me! Please." - had done nothing.
Goose hadn't responded.
No breaths had fanned over Mav's hand, his arm, where he clutched him with stark desperation pumping in his veins.
Mav isn't sure how long it took search and rescue to find them. He just knows that at some point he stopped using his wings to help keep them afloat in the choppy water and pulled them back into his body, letting the life jacket do the work. Thinks perhaps part of him hadn't cared in that moment if it worked or not; happy to be dragged in a watery grave if he could spend a little longer with his best friend.
At some point they'd pulled him out though, unlatching his frozen stiff fingers from Goose's body and nudging him in the other direction.
And now he's sitting here, though he's not sure where here is.
"Mav?"
He blinks slowly at the call of his name; lifting his head, though it feels like it weighs a tonne. Mav squints, trying to recognise the image in front of him.
"I—"
Warm hands cover his own and Mav hisses, skin feeling like it burns.
"It's Ice. And Slider." Another hand rests lightly on his forearm. "Are you alright?"
Mav shakes his head. "No," he rasps; tears spilling from his lashes, never reaching the collar of his flight suit. "He's gone. Goose is gone."
"We know," Slider says. It's the most gentle Mav's ever heard him. It feels wrong. Nothing about this situation feels right.
"We need to get you warm and dry, Mav. Can you move?"
Mav stares at Ice, blinking sluggishly. The words don't seem to be able to fully penetrate the fog of his mind.
"We should just move him, Ice," he hears, though it sounds far away. "He's not going to be able to answer us properly for a while."
"Can you carry him?"
"His wings are in, so yeah."
Mav whines in confusion as he's lifted, but then his cheek brushes warm fabric and skin, and his teeth stop chattering in between each ragged breath he tries to take. Strong arms carry him hooked under his back and legs. Mav closes his eyes, too tired to deal with anything.
When he opens them again he's lying on a bed wearing just a vest and a pair of sweats too long for his legs. His skin is no long damp and cold.
"W-what?" He coughs trying to clear his throat. Someone hands him water and he drinks through a straw. "Where am I?"
"Our barracks." Ice is wearing a t-shirt and a ragged pair of sweats. His wings trail behind his lithe frame; bright white feathers with splashes of rich blue amongst them, and ice-blue feathers right on the tips.
Mav looks around, spots Slider perched on the edge of the bed. He's similarly dressed; his wings framing his broad shoulders and solid torso. Brown feathers with yellow, pinks and whites speckled in amongst the downy plume.
Both of them have wings much prettier than Mav’s own, he thinks. His are black except when the light hits them just right, then you can see the iridescent shine of green and blue bounce off the top layer, like those of a magpie.
A lot of people would say he's a thief like one, stealing someone more deserving's place in Top Gun, the Navy, so it fits.
"Why am I here?" Mav frowns; wrapping his arms around his chest.
"We brought you back here to keep an eye on you. Make sure you're alright."
"Why?" Mav looks at Ice and Slider in turn. "You don't like me. You said so yourself - I'm dangerous. Unsafe." Mav wipes his nose on his arm ; sniffing back tears. Hiccups out a watery, hollow laugh. "Guess you were right. G-Goose would still be here if he had someone else as his pilot."
"Don't say that," Ice snaps, and Mav recoils; looking at him with wide eyes. "Sorry. I just—" he cards his hand through his blond hair; shoulders tight with a tension Mav doesn't understand.
"You didn't do anything wrong," Slider says. "It was an accident."
"No, it's my fault," Mav cries; shaking again, though this time not from the cold. "I'm the reason he's dead."
"If you're to blame then so am I."
Mav's brow furrows, looks at Ice unsure. "What do you mean?"
"It was my fucking jet wash, Mav. So if it's your fault then it's mine too."
Mav opens his mouth to respond and then snaps it closed with a soft click. Rubs under his tear-gritty eyes and sighs. "I don't need you to try and make me feel better by sharing the blame, Ice. I know it's my fault. I just have to accept that."
"It was an accident, Mav," Slider says again. "A shitty, terrible accident. You did the best you could. You're lucky to be alive."
Mav barks out a cruel laugh. "Lucky? Ha! That's one word for it."
They sit in silence for a while. Mav stares down at the neatly made bed sheets. Ice and Slider's gaze presses down on him.
"Can you bring your wings out, Mav?" Ice asks eventually.
"Why?"
"It's not good to keep them tucked away. Especially after a traumatic event. Doing so increases the likelihood of the person's wings never coming out again."
Good, Mav thinks for a long second. Serves him right. Maybe he shouldn't fly again. Goose isn't going to. Goose is never going to do anything again, so why should Mav get to spread his wings and soar the skies? He shouldn't.
He still pushes the feathers and bones out of his back though, because he knows Goose would tell him off if he didn't. And even if he has to listen to Goose admonish him in his mind, at least that way he won’t forget the sound of his voice.
Mav glances behind to where his wings stretch out and quickly averts his gaze, ashamed. Feathers stick out at all angles from the rough impact with the ocean; some bent with parts of the feathers splayed and torn. Others are completely broken and need to be tugged from the root. Carole and Goose have always groomed Mav’s wings; teaching Bradley how to do them these past few months - showing him how to hold a feather gently, where to rub oil so it covers more of the wing. Where to touch and where not to. Not unless the person being groomed is okay with you touching them so intimately.
Start him young, Goose had said. Then he can do your wings, Mav, while I have a nap.
Mav rubs his fist over his sternum; the ache in his chest burning hot and fierce. He’s never going to not miss him.
“Can we groom your wings, Mav?” Ice asks softly. Mav peeks at him through the clumps of his lashes.
”Why would you want to?” he rasps; throat scratchy with grief. “I can do it…At some point.”
”Please, just let us,” Slider says. “You just need to sit there. It’ll make you feel better.”
Mav’s not sure anything can, but he tips his chin in a small nod anyway, because he doesn’t want to be alone with the space where Goose should be, and his two rivals are better than no one. Slider and Ice move in tandem; sitting behind him, taking a wing each.
First they comb through his dark wings, one feather at a time. The damaged ones are plucked free easily. Mav sits there fingers thawed and fiddling with the hem of his vest.
”Your wings are pretty,” Slider murmurs, so quietly at first, Mav doesn’t think he heard him right. “They shine like an oil spill on tarmac. A hidden rainbow.”
”Didn’t know you were a poet, Slider,” Mav huffs; a blush staining his cheeks.
”Lot of things you don’t know about us.”
Mav hums. Carries on sitting there. The gentle movements of their fingers on his wings forces his shoulders to relax, his chest feel less tight. The mattress creaks as Ice grabs the oil; their hands becoming slick as they rub it over his coverts and secondaries, following the bend of his wing over the alula and primaries.
They don’t touch his tertiary feathers right up against his spine, and Mav doesn’t ask them to. Part of him wants it, but the larger part of him knows he won’t be able to stand anyone else touching him there just yet. Maybe not ever.
”All done,” Ice skims his fingers over the shell of Mav’s ear, and he jerks his head up. Twists to look over his shoulder. There’s not a single feather out of place. You wouldn’t be able to tell from looking at him that he’d crashed into the ocean and lost his best friend.
A sob catches his in his throat. Another forces it out, followed by more. The floodgates open, unable to be closed again. Mav’s whole body shudders as he weeps; tipping onto his side on the bed, curling into a ball. Ice stretches out in front of him, Slider at his back. Mav can’t see them clearly through his tears, but he feels their heat. Their solid presence surrounding him.
The tips of two wings - one white and blue, the other brown and speckled with colour - blankets him, resting on Mav’s hip.
”I should go,” he gasps.
”You’re staying here, Mav. Just accept it. Cry as much as you want, but you’re staying put.” Ice’s voice is no-nonsense. Mav would usually bristle and push back on instinct, but he’s weary down to the bone. He nods morosely.
”D-Do you have a b-blanket?”
Slider tugs one on top of them all, and Mav drags the edge of a pillow under his cheek. Grasps it tightly.
”He’s never coming back,” he whispers.
”No. He’s not.”
“I’m never going to stop missing him.”
”That’s okay. You don’t have to stop missing him. He’ll always be with you.”
”Why are you both being so nice to me?”
Fingers stroke his hair. His flank. Mav sinks deeper into the warmth of the bed.
”Go to sleep, Mav. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
He still doesn’t understand why Ice and Slider aren’t kicking him out, but he’s too tired to care anymore. Mav closes his eyes and hopes Goose will be there in his dreams.
Already knows he’ll be in his nightmares for years to come.