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Summary
He and Ron are going through their personal pre-flight checklist, when Sam appears and says, “Here’s your water, Captain Kazansky.”
He accepts the bottle, but almost drops it entirely, when an eerily familiar voice calls from the aisleway-
“Wait, hold on, did you say Captain Kazansky?”
No, it can’t be, Tom thinks.
He looks to Ron, who regards him with a questioning look, not recognizing the voice as he had, and then Tom turns his head further, around the headrest of his seat, and holy shit, standing there, in his dress blues for some God-forsaken reason, medals shining on his chest, looking just the same as he did some twenty-odd years ago- “Maverick?!”
“Holy shit!” Maverick grins. “The Iceman, in the flesh. What are the odds?”