Flight status suspended pending investigation.
Possible administrative separation.
Grounded.
Thirty-six years of reckless and brilliant flying, thirty-six years of creating the legend and the villain, thirty-six years of service – though unconventional to say the least. Thirty-six years to prove to himself and the world that while, of course, he was the best, he was the best in his way. Thirty-six years to make him cocky enough to think that he could do and get away with anything forever.
Thirty-six years to realize that maybe, eventually, his luck had to run out and he would cross the wrong person, people. Thirty-six years to realize that it might not end with his death, but something worse. Grounding. Discharge. An end to everything he was. A fate worse than death.
Standing with his hands in his pockets, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, half-listened to the E-5 Crew Chief as he ran down some instructions for the mechanics required for repairs on a plane that Maverick wasn’t even going to be able to fly. Of course that was all planes at the moment. It was a kick in the ass to have to use his engineering degree on the very thing that he wanted to be piloting without the permission to do so. Though he supposed that was slightly better than the administrative paper work he had been doing.
Or the humiliating assignment of answering phones along with other menial tasks that were part of his punishment. Next, he would be told he was assigned Watchstanding – watch duties such as an ‘integrity watch’ responsible for safety measures on the hangar or flight deck. Of course, he spent a lot of time watching said flight deck, so that one might not be as bad as it sounded. Or it might be worse.
The Hornet taxied off the flight deck and shot into the sky, his gaze briefly following, his heart up in the air rather than here on the ground, the deck, anywhere but where it should be. A naval aviator wasn’t just what he did. Living life on the razor’s edge, the adrenalin, the thrill, the speed, the danger, the knowledge that this was where he belonged. This was what he was good at. The best. This was who he was –
“Mitchell! Are you listening?” The demand snapped his gaze away from the airborne plane back to the man he had been talking to, or halfway listening to. Some of the people he had been relegated to working with were cool, they didn’t rub his mistakes in his face or love the fact that, though he highly outranked them, they were the ones giving the orders. Though these weren’t real orders, just instructions in the menial things he had to do or what they were doing and how he could assist. Some had respect for those with that higher rank. Others were just assholes who got off on the chance to sling their weight around while he listened and obeyed – mostly – because he had a hefty disciplinary action hanging over his head and to further his humiliation, his assignments had been delegated to others. “This is important.”
“I know.” He finally murmured, clenching the fists that were luckily stuffed into his jacket pockets, preventing him from taking a swing, no matter what the consequences. It wasn’t like he could be in much more trouble than he was and fighting wasn’t something that never happened and this guy wasn’t above him…
“I’m not just the best at flying these babies.” He pulled one of those hands free to gesture vaguely to the sky. “I do know how to fix them, too.” And he may be reckless with his own life, but he tried not to be too reckless with others’. When he wasn’t involved. If he was fixing something they were going to take up, then he was fixing it right.
He was saved any further conversation when a runner found them, saluting and passing on the message that he had an appointment with ‘the system.’ Which only meant one person. Instructions on where this meeting would be held were added and he turned on his heel without a ‘by your leave’ and made his way to this unexpected but maybe not wholly unwelcome appointment.
Standing outside the recently commandeered office, he was silent as he waited to be granted access to this ever so important appointment. He ignored the looks and the whispering that had accompanied him to this spot. Not like he wasn’t used to both even without this to add to the legend that was Maverick. He just hoped that legendary status wasn’t about to crash and burn.
