#with the scene where ice & mav are in the hangar with this plane

[compacflt]

THE p-51D. THE mustang. THE jacket. okay. (Thanks to @sassenach082 for letting me know how close i was to planes of fame!!)

[blazingstar29]

I'm Leaving On A Jet Plane - Chapter 4

Chapters: 1/2/3

Pairing: Iceman/Maverick

Summary: The layton mission is a success but Maverick has an unexpected caller.

Warnings: Panic attack, grief

Wordcount: 3.5 K

One week later. 

They did leave Goose’s name on the locker. 

The adhesive masking tape is stuck firmly to the metal reading Lt. Nick Bradshaw “GOOSE”. Maverick gently unsticks it and folds it carefully against the chain of his dog tags before tucking them beneath his shirt. 

“Maverick!” Stinger exclaims rounding the corner of a locker bay. 

“Sir.”

“How does it feel to be on the front page of every English speaking newspaper in the world? Even though the other side denies the incident. Congratulations!”

He forces a smile. The thrill of war doesn’t have the same excitement. “Thank you, Sir.”

“They gave you your choice of duty, son.  Anything, anywhere, do you believe that shit?” It seems Singer doesn’t. “Where do you think you want to go?”

God, so many questions. His head is still spinning, fear and adrenaline mixes. That spin almost wasn’t recoverable. Once is an accident,  twice and they’ll question if he’s fit to fly planes. Stinger blows a plume of smoke at him. 

“I thought of being an instructor, sir. Pay it on and all that.” 

Stinger’s eyes widened incredulously. He’ll never really balance the Maverick who left the Kitty Hawk and the one in front of him. The one thing that changed this boy's head was the greatest price he had to pay, besides losing his wings. Stinger had got word from Viper not only about Goose which was a piece of news he never wants to break again, but knows he will, but of Maverick’s options. It seemed like he was quitting just a week ago. Hell, an hour ago it seemed like Maverick might quit still. 

“Top Gun?”

Maverick smiles bashfully. “Yes, sir.”

“God help us!” Stinger laughs as he leaves Maverick alone.

Later under the cover of dusk, Maverick steals himself away to the flight deck, to the railing at the bow of the ship. He pulls his dog tags from under his shirt and with great reverence unsticks the masking tape. With even pressure Maverick leans low and sticks it against the bow of the ship. It will be gone before morning, but it’s enough for Maverick that it’s there right now. That…that Goose will always be a part of the ship and as much as Maverick hates it, a part of the sea. 

“You would have loved it,” he mutters. “Great balls of fire.”

Iceman passes him in the halls. He looks at Maverick’s windswept hair and the water spray on his browns. “Sneaking around, Mav?”

Maverick gives him a thin lipped smile. “Last I heard this was my ship.”

It brings a sharp, curt laugh from Iceman. Whatever brotherhood they had down on the beach, landing back on the flight deck is gone. Where, Maverick isn’t sure. Please let it come back. 

“They gave you the same choice, where are you heading?”

“Lemoore. It’s where Slider and I first met. Managed to bring him along as a package deal,” Ice smiles. “And you?”  

“Top Gun instructor.” There’s a flash of concern in Ice’s eyes. He underestimates you. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Ice says quickly. “I’m just surprised you’d stay there. I’d have thought you’d want a change of scene.” 

He never trusted you. Of course he wouldn’t. Why would he? Maverick’s mind flashes back to before the mission as they finished the briefing. Iceman had approached Stinger. 

“Excuse me sir.” He had said it with the utmost respect, Slider at his side. He raised his hand as if to emphasise his point. “This is not personal.” Of course it was. “But with regard to Maverick.”

At the sound of his name he froze. Iceman and Slider talking to Stinger, his superior about him.

“Is he the best backup that–”

“I know what’s on your mind Kazansky, just get on with it.” Of course Stinger would know, of course he knew what Ice meant. Hell, he probably agreed. Maverick slipped away before they could catch him watching.

“No, no,” Maverick shakes his head. “I’m good. I’m good.”

— 

They part ways at the hangar. The Navy has given them two weeks leave before it’s business as usual. Now that he’s an instructor, Maverick has off-base housing he needs to collect keys to. The guy at the desk chucks him the keys and a manilla folder with a look of respect. He’s no longer the MiG insulter, he’s the MiG killer. Maverick feels no remorse for shooting down those MiG’s. It was them or us, he thinks. But there’s something about knowing what someone on the other side is going to feel when they find out about the dead pilots. Maverick shakes his head as he gets on to his bike, those people are none of his concern. 

The cruel path of fate that Maverick survived to go on and have two air-to-air kills doesn’t escape him. When he gets to the housing, the first he does ring Carol. Her surprised tone also fails to escape him. 

“Carol? It’s me, Maverick.”

“Mav? Hi! I wasn’t expecting your call, is everything okay?” She doesn’t sound angry at least. Maverick wonders when it will set in, when does the denial turn to anger? 

“I won’t keep you long. But I’ve got a new address, I just wanted to pass it on.”

The conversation dies once she stops scratching the new address down with a pencil and paper. He lets her go, he’s taken enough from her already, he doesn’t need to take her time as well.

Life falls into mundane routine for a few days. With no friends, no family, Maverick spends his days reading the instructor package he was given when he got his housing key and cruising up and down the coast burning through as much fuel as possible. He parks down by the volleyball nets and walks as long as he can trying to find the rocky outcrop where he sat with Ice. Eventually he finds it but the tide is cutting him off from the comfort he seeks through the memory. Iceman was the first to reach out, reach out and say hey, don’t rush it. 

But his flailing routine becomes rocky and cracks start to appear. They start in his mask, in his resolve to put as much life between him and Goose’s death as possible. So Maverick makes changes. He makes his routine so stead-fast there is not a second left in the day to even think about Goose. It works. Everything ran like a well oiled machine. 

The routine fractures on his first day at Top Gun. Viper’s speech is familiar but the students hauntingly so. Immediately he spots the class Maverick and the Iceman. They don’t do the ridiculous staring contest during Viper’s speech but they look each other up and down as they stand to leave the classroom. Maverick wants to scream at them until he’s hoarse that those attitudes will hurt someone. In a bright eyed boy he sees Goose. Guilt brews in his heart when the kid catches Maverick glaring at him.

He returns to his flat with a weary head. The kettle is only just put on when the landline rings. Maverick’s head whips towards it.  Unsure of who may be calling, he picks it up hesitantly. 

“Mitchell speaking.”

“Maverick?” Iceman. “It’s Iceman.”

“How’d you get my number?” Is Maverick’s first question, his voice defensive. Why is Iceman calling? Probably to see if you’ve screwed up already.

There’s shuffling and voices on the other side of the phone. Iceman is ringing from the communal pay phone. “I asked around. People give you things if you’re a MiG killer.”

Maverick hums. “You move onto base today?”

“Yeah. First day as an instructor?”

“Yeah. Just got in.” The conversation halts. What’s he doing? Maverick clears his throat. “How’s Slider?”

“Good, good, yeah. Hold on, I’ll give you this number.”

Maverick writes the number down feeling strangely like Carol. Is this how she felt? Not rejecting Maverick’s call but clueless as to how to respond? They stall again. There’s more laughter in the background. People must be coming through before heading to the mess. There’s a wolf-whistle in the background. He hears Iceman put the receiver against his shoulder but it doesn’t muffle the noise. 

“Ask your girl if she’s got any friends, Kazansky!”

Maverick freezes. But Ice doesn’t say anything and he knows the cold flat stare that the joker is now receiving. When he hears the phone go back to Iceman’s ear Maverick laughs. 

“So you haven’t scared them all yet with your fantastic personality and MiG killer status?” Maverick teases. The conversation came randomly, out of the blue, but this feels normal. 

Ice clears his throat. “That guy’s a real joker, figured that out in five minutes. He’s worse than you.”

“Goose was the funny one.” The words slip out before he can stop them. Shit, why’d you say that?

“Oh that’s right,” Ice says, his voice as smooth as an oil slick. “I should say his personality is as repulsive as yours.”

The weight in Maverick’s chest lifts a smidge but the crushing feeling is still there. He made the routine, he stopped the rumination. It was working. Wake up, eat, go to work, work out, eat, go to sleep. He had the system down but then Ice called. Ice had gone and mucked it up. Things were fine as long as he stuck to schedule. And now he has to reboil the electric kettle, shovel food in his mouth and figure out how to sleep with a brick on his heart. 

“Maverick?” But all he can hear is the rustle of air.

The receiver swings gently by its cord, occasionally knocking against the wall. Next to it, Maverick twists his fingers in the fabric over his heart, waiting for muscle memory to remind him how to breathe.

—

They want Maverick to talk today, about MiG’s. He shifts uncomfortably in Viper’s office. Jester as always leaning in the back corner. 

“What do you want me to tell them?”

“Well you’ve insulted one and shot down two more.” Viper looks at him over the corner of a folder. “These kids know about the aerodynamics of these planes, their specs. What they don’t know is what it’s actually like to fly against them. It’s one thing knowing the book. What you’ve seen is how those pilots fly the damn things.” 

Maverick considers this for a moment. “I think it’s best if we stick to facts. Aerial manoeuvres, nothing about the fact three MiG’s were shot down on that mission. It’s going to fill their heads that people like us are untouchable.” 

“That’s another thing,” Jester clears his throat. “After your class graduated the brass wanted some preventative measures against developing a culture amongst Top Gun pilots. Not only for when they return to their squadrons, but for their own safety.”   

Goose.

“We’ve seen first hand it’s third time a charm when senior officers try to drill it in,” Viper continues. Me. “So they want a young gun to talk about it. We want you to do that.” 

There’s no backing getting out of this, Maverick realises. “Yes, Sir.”

—

“For those that haven’t been paying attention, I’m Lieutenant Pete Mitchell, call sign: Maverick.” 

There’s glimmers of recognition. Maverick and Iceman 2.0 shift in their seats, squaring their chins. 

“The MiG-28 is the best weapon in the hands of the enemy. Luckily for us, we’re learning more about it everyday. What isn’t common knowledge is how the pilots can handle that plane. That’s what I’m going to tell you.”

At the back of the room a smile twitches beneath Viper’s moustache. The next fifteen–twenty minutes slip by as Maverick prattles off various manoeuvres and how the MiG’s have been proven to perform them and the differences between the Tomcat. As he draws to a finish, he catches Viper’s eye. The commanding officer gives him a nod, it’s time to segue. Maverick thinks there’s a glimmer of kindness in Viper’s eyes. Regardless, he uses it to steel his nerves. 

“However,” he says, clearing his throat. “This information is only as useful as your ability to fly.”

There’s confused looks, like every student in the room is saying well, obviously.

“It’s only as useful as your ability to fly and come back home.” His quiet words send a silent ripple through the room. 

“The fact is that you are the best of the best, you’re going to get better. The brass knows it, you know it. That’s why I’m still standing up here talking to you. What comes with that is the urge to preen like peacocks, show off. That attitude leads to mistakes, mistakes that are avoidable. Pushing that position, cutting the guy next to you off just to get ahead of them ends with bodies in coffins.” 

“Sometimes you have to make those decisions. You can’t be afraid of the consequences,” someone, Crack, pipes up from the middle rows. 

Maverick clocks his eyes on the framed photo at the back of the room. Walking slowly, precisely, Maverick walks down the aisle and unhooks the photo. With the same steady pace he returns and places the frame in front of the student. 

He points at himself in the photograph before wordlessly tracing his finger to the figure next to him. Maverick makes sure to lean close to Crack’s face, staring him down.

“Pass that along,” he spits. Returning to his post at the desk, Maverick perches on it. “What Crack is going to hand to you is a photo of my graduating class. He’ll point out myself and the man next to me.”

Maverick keeps his blank gaze fixed on Crack as he hands it to the guy next to him. The frame silently makes its way around the room before a pilot at the front hesitantly hands it up to Maverick. 

“That man beside me is Lieutenant Nick Bradshaw, call sign, Goose. He has a wife named Carol and a son called Bradley. Goose was my RIO at Top Gun. But he didn’t graduate.”

Eyes skitter nervously amongst each other. 

“He didn’t graduate because I killed him. I killed my RIO pushing a position against my competitor. I was too close. I got caught in his jet wash and we were in an unrecoverable spin. Goose died in the ejection because I was certain that position belonged to me.”

Maverick allows the silence to sit uncomfortably in the room. Crack looks firmly at the floor. 

Silence. Stone cold silence. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, out.

In, out 

in out

in in in out

Viper’s voice breaks it. “Gentlemen, you have a hop to take. Get moving.”

Breathe in, breathe out. 

The room empties fast but subdued. Pursing his lips Maverick cautiously meets Vipers eye. 

“That’s probably not what the brass wanted when they said they wanted safety talks.”

“They want the ego shocked out of these kids without losing lives. I think you’ve managed that pretty well.” 

Maverick nods with the reassurance. He swallows the growing lump in his throat and glances back down at the photograph in his hands. Shaking his head, Maverick stands and returns it to its place. 

Jester claps his hand down his shoulder as he leaves the room. “I’ll see you on the flight line.” 

Alone, Viper moves to stand next to him. “You pushed that position, but you didn’t kill him.” 

“I know.”

Liar.

—

Iceman rings again, days after his first call. 

“Mav,” he says. 

Exhausted from the talk he gave the flyers and the multiple consecutive hops, Maverick isn’t in the mood to talk. Especially after how the last call ended. 

“Ice. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Iceman says quickly. “Nothing, just thought I’d drop a line.”

God, it’s like he doesn’t trust that you won’t fuck up. He’s waiting for it. 

“You’re keeping tabs,” Maveric accuses. 

“No,” Ice says in the way he speaks when he’s choosing his words. “No Maverick, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m trying to…”

“To be what?” Maverick snarks. He’s too tired for this, for Ice to play whatever game. “I’m done in, Kazansky. Todays’ not the day.” 

He hears a quiet sigh, a pregnant pause. “Tell me about it.” 

What could he tell Ice how would he say it? Well, I divulged how my dumb ego got my only friend killed to a class that reminds me so much of us it makes me go insane. 

“Just the students. Cocky. Too much like me.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Muscle memory. In, out. In–

“Stay unemotional, Mav.”

Snake. 

In, out. 

He tightens his grip around the phone. “Like you?”

“No, better.”

Iceman hangs up and Maverick is left with the brick on his heart. He can’t pry his fingers underneath to lift it off so he leaves it there. The evening melts away in a blurr. Pans become dirty and cloying pasta sits heavily in his throat. The brick doesn’t lift. He showers, or at least he thinks he does. There’s water on the tile and his skin is wet but he’s dressed in sleep shorts.

Muscle memory. Breathe in, out, muscle memory. 

He’s got this. Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in 

out

in out

in 

in 

in 

lungs bursting to tight too big for his skin choking breathe in in in in 

swollen hands tight skin breathe muscle memory, breathe in breathe in out out in for four hold seven out out in out eigh in four

fingers punching numbers punch punch  

“Yo, who are you after?”

speak normal speak normal 

“Kazansky.”

“Kazansky! Someone’s calling.”

to loud very loud 

breathe in in in in in 

“Speaking.” Iceman, steady. Cool, calm. 

“Tell me – tell me about your day.”

listen he can listen if only Ice speaks

“Please.”

he can’t make out what he’s saying except that it’s Iceman’s voice talking, breathing, breathing just keep breathing in in in in out 

breathe in in in out 

breathe in in out 

breathe in out

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Iceman’s voice in his ear, speaking calmly. 

“-And then our commanding officer grilled him for that. Not surprisingly, though.”

“Ice?”

“Maverick.” 

“I’m sorry, thank you. Bye.” 

This time Maverick hangs up. The brick is on his heart. It’s not crushing this time, it pinches.

—

Iceman dials the number he’s already ingrained into his memory the next morning. When Fetch hollered for him before dinner he was surprised. There weren't many people calling for him these days. 

But the strained voice down the line sent shock waves down his spine. It was Maverick. 

“Tell me – tell me about your day. Please.”

Maverick was grasping at straws, breathlessly teetering on the edge of reality and Ice was four hours away. But he did as asked, he kept talking. He talked until the ragged breathing began to even and he heard Maverick’s voice, rough and weary. 

Something happened but Maverick didn’t give him the opportunity to ask. Almost sounding embarrassed, he hung up with a quick apology and a word of thanks. It left Ice guessing all night as to what happened but he doesn’t have contacts in Miramar, no one to ask. 

At dinner Slider questioned him and Ice shrugged. 

“He wasn’t right. He hung up on me earlier but then he rang me again sounding like he just finished a marathon.”

Plagued with concern, Ice waits until morning to ring again. The line almost rings out when Maverick picks it up at the last minute. 

“Maverick?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?” He can imagine Maverick shuffling, tensing and untensing his jaw.  

“Fine,” he says eventually. 

Is he dressed for work or still in sleep clothes, the early morning sun melting to gold on his skin? Suddenly Iceman wants to be in the room next to Maverick, see the way he leans against the wall, glares at Ice’s every word. 

“Is that it?” Maverick interrupts Ice’s completely out of place thoughts. 

“I was worried,” he says lamely. There’s a pregnant pause as he puts the next few words together. “Something went wrong last night. That much was obvious.”

He knows he’s pushing the limit on how much time either of them has. But Maverick doesn’t hang up straight away which he hopes is a good thing. There’s a sigh in his ear and Fetch walks towards him, opening his mouth but Ice shoots him a frosty glare and he turns around immediately. 

“We’re not friends, Kazansky,” Maverick says in a low voice. “I shouldn’t have called you. This…” He trails off. No, God please don’t say to never call again. “I’m trying to put my life together, Ice. Put as much life as I can between me and Goose. I have a routine and it’s too easy to break it if I keep talking.” 

“I seem to remember you asking me to do just that.”

“We’re not friends,” Maverick repeats. “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at here.” 

Ice scoffs without thinking. “Jesus you’ve really never had friends before have you? This is what people do, Maverick. They look out for people. I thought you got over your ego.” The words drip like venom from his tongue. 

“And I thought you got that stick out of your ass but I think I’d still see it in your throat if I could see you!” Maverick shouts. It’s not his snappiest response but he’s angry and…and confused and frustrated and lost.

And lonely. 

“Ice?” 

“Yeah?”

Breathe in, out. In. Out. 

in out

in 

“Maverick?”

“When do you have a day off?”