Chapter Text
Natasha Trace came from a long line of stubborn, observant females.
It was one of her sisters’ most irritating traits.
But right now, it was serving her well.
She wasn’t sure what was going on with Bradshaw, but he was deteriorating.
Not noticeably, to anyone who didn’t know his patterns and habits.
But when he went from shoveling down breakfast before preflight to “oversleeping” and showing up like he had just spent an hour in the gym to preflight itself, it was pretty obvious.
She heard Seresin say something.
That’s when she knew it was bad.
“Hey, Bradshaw! Bulking up doesn’t get you anywhere in the skies.”
She saw Bradley’s fists curl, but otherwise he was the picture of calm.
Getting no response, they climbed into their planes.
But the exchange seemed to shake him out of whatever downward spiral he’d been caught in. He’d gone back to eating with the crew, flying his usual, and engaging with Seresin.
Graduating from flight school with their callsigns was a proud moment.
As it turned out, she, dubbed Phoenix, and Bradshaw, now Rooster, would be stationed together. Seresin, Hangman, would too.
But that was neither here nor there when they arrived.
That’s when shit hit the fan.
Rooster apparently held a striking resemblance to his father. And all the old guard pilots wanted to talk about was him.
And the guilt and the anger ate at him, left him sleepless, despondent, and angry.
He was constantly biting back at Hangman, and it was no longer in good fun.
Even stationed in Florida, he was pale.
Weird as it was, she hadn’t seen any of his PT gear in the laundry lately (she wasn’t snooping. It was easy to identify, being bright yellow.)
His flying was taking a hit.
Then he collapsed.
One second he’d been behind her, checking the levels in his bird and unhooking pins, the next she heard a sickening thud as he hit the ground.
“Shit,” she heard her backseater mutter.
She turned, half-knowing what she was about to see behind her.
“Goddammit, Bradshaw,” she cursed. “You’re a damn idiot.”
Hangman, having come up at the sudden silence that came over the hangar, took in the situation. “Oh, shit.” His drawl belied the worry for his wingman.
“Seresin, not now. Go get someone.”
Thankful to have an assignment, he ran off.
“Everyone else, finish up. The lieutenant has this.” Their squadron commander’s tone booked no arguments.
Everyone scattered.
Rooster was starting to come around as her backseater brought a bottle of water.
“Thanks, Lieutenant.”
Rooster tried to push himself off the floor, but he could barely support himself.
“Phoe?” he murmured instead, voice still groggy.
“Good to know you didn’t completely scramble your shit, dumbass.” Her mouth got a little loose when she was stressed, and this definitely qualified.
Rooster was unbearably dizzy. He last remembered dragging himself out of bed, feeling every ache and pain he’d acquired flying the way they did.
He had no idea how he’d gotten here, on the floor, being supported by Phoenix as she forced a bottle of water on him.
Hangman came back, followed by a corpsman he’d flagged down on his way home from duty.
Ok, maybe he had pulled rank, but it was worth it.
“Lieutenant, heard you fell.” The corpsman tried to break the ice, but it fell flat.
“He hasn’t been eating,” Phoenix chimed in before Rooster could even get his bearings.
He closed his eyes, so dizzy and miserable he couldn’t even muster the energy to be pissed at her.
“It shows. Even without any equipment, I’d bet your heart is racing and you’re feeling clammy?”
Phoenix’s fingers found his wrist and confirmed his suspicions, nodding over his shoulder.
“Alright, Lieutenant, I’m going to leave you in your squad’s hands. You need to be seen.”
Their commander, observing from the corner, finally re-entered the situation. “I’m making that an order. Trace, go with him to make sure it’s followed.”
Sending him a small, grateful smile, she said “To the letter, sir.”
Rooster groaned.
He was in for it now.
--
A female corpsman helped arrange him in a berth, having him peel his flightsuit down to his waist.
Phoenix didn’t leave his side the entire time.
He couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful.
But when faced with the commander assigned to his case, she was ushered out to wait.
The commander helped him stand up, and supported him to the scale in the corner.
He closed his eyes as he stepped onto it.
He could feel the look of the commander gave him as her pen scratched across his chart.
He returned to the bed, a corpsman delivering a gown and blanket.
He crawled under it and slept.
They’d let Phoenix back with him after he was settled in a more permanent room.
She studied him closely while he was asleep.
Sure, the IV tubing was shocking, but she could ignore that.
She could see how his face was drawn, pale even after weeks in the Florida heat.
Helping him earlier, she’d felt the start of his ribs pushing through two layers of clothes.
Thinking even further back, his flight suit had steadily been looser and looser on him.
She shook her head.
What was he thinking?
She’s startled out of her thoughts by someone bursting through the door.
Shorter, an LCDR, wearing a flight jacket covered in patches.
She’s on edge instinctively.
“Who’re you?” she questions, none too nicely.
“Lieutenant Commander Mitchell.”
Rooster stirs himself, still groggy. “Phoe?”
“Hey, B.” her voice softens as his eyes peel open.
They land on the man in the doorway. “Get out.” His voice is low.
Phoenix has to hand it to the man. Even with all the venom he could muster, the man stood strong.
“Bradley…”
“No! You don’t get to walk back into my life. Not now. Not ever. Out!”
Maverick just stands there.
“OUT!” he bellows, chest heaving.
The man leaves. Phoenix can see how the exchange had broken him just a little more.
The commotion had drawn a corpsman to the room. She leaves after checking over her patient.
Another, more commanding presence fills the doorway.
“Oh, Bradley,” he whispers.
“Uncle Ice,” he replies, voice rough.
“What’ve you gotten yourself into?”
Rooster just shakes his head.
Phoenix excuses herself, but she’s not sure either of the two men heard her.
“Lieutenant?” Apparently the man that had made Rooster so angry hadn’t left like she thought he would.
Great. Another stubborn aviator. Just what she needed in her life.
“Sir.” She gave him a calculating stare.
“I just…I wanted to apologize for earlier. That’s not…that’s not usually how he is.”
Phoenix swallowed hard. This would make or break her career. “No, sir, it’s not. Clearly, you’ve done something to upset him. What that is, he’s never said, and I have no idea who you are, or were, to him. But I don’t think this is where you should be while he recovers. Sir.”
Maverick stopped himself from taking a literal step back. He was beginning to understand her callsign. A spitfire, not afraid to shoot fire at those she deemed a threat to ones she cared about, and would still come out on top.
“Lieutenant.” Iceman’s cold tone stopped the second salvo she had ready.
“Sir.” She turned to him, posture sharp.
“Go back to Rooster. He’s asking for you.”
She nodded, excusing herself.
Iceman smiled gently at her as she passed him, and internally she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d caught the oak leaves on his shoulders. He was someone who could’ve very easily busted her in rank, or worse, grounded her.
“Hey, Rooster.”
The two men in the hall can’t hear anymore after Phoenix closes the door behind her.
Iceman puts a hand on Maverick’s shoulder.
“C’mon, Pete. Not here.”
Maverick holds it together until they reach the car.
“God, he hates me,” he breathes out wetly. “He hasn’t forgiven me.” A pause. “Maybe he shouldn’t.”
Tom looks at him. “No, Pete. You don’t get to say that. You did only as his mother asked of you. He found his own way here.” He paused, knowing this debate had come up before. “You need to tell him.”
Just as he’d predicted, Pete shook his head violently. “I can’t. I can’t let him resent her for this.”
Ice doesn’t know what else to say.
So he drives.
--
Rooster wishes he was asleep again, the way Nat’s glare was boring into him. He knows she wants to know why he knew the most infamous LCDR and Commander pair to ever fly in the Navy.
She just doesn’t know how to ask tactfully.
“Just ask, Phoe,” he says tiredly.
“What the hell, B?”
He laughs ruefully. “They’re my uncles. Mav’s practically my dad.” He swallows hard. “Well, he was.”
Phoenix knows what happened to his father. “What?”
Rooster can barely bring himself to stay awake, now that the rage has given way to bone deep exhaustion.
“He…he hurt me. And I can’t forgive him.”
Phoenix notices the way the words start to curl at the edge, and sees how his eyes are drifting shut.
“Sleep, B. I’ll see you soon.”
--
Maverick slides into the empty room later that night, watching him sleep. He hadn’t had the opportunity since before the kid disowned him, after pulling his application to the academy.
He still hadn’t forgiven him.
He stepped to the side of the bed, watching the way his face moved in his dreams.
Ice slid in behind him.
“He’s ok. You’re ok.”
Maverick breathed out.
They were ok.
And they would be in the end.