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Still a Father

The spring-loaded joke can of snakes resided in his old station wagon. He didn't know why he kept it when he should have thrown it out long ago. It was the last thing that his ten-year-old son had bought before the car accident that took his and his mother's life. Alan hadn't wanted to let him buy it, but Annie had insisted he let him have it because Todd loved jokes and magic and was 'just like him.' And because Todd loved it so much...Alan had been unable to get rid of the can.

He held it as he sat in the driver’s seat, hands absently running over it, though he wasn’t really looking at the can. He was parked in front of the Municipal building and watching as the families of Castle Rock made their ways toward Castle View Park. It was the third Sunday in June and there was a big Father’s Day cookout and celebration in the park for everyone who wanted to attend.

It was also the first Father’s Day since the accident and Alan found that he very much did not want to attend himself. It was actually the last thing in the world he wanted to do. He had already heard enough of the ‘Happy Father’s Day’ wishes from everyone he had seen so far today and nodded and smiled. Returning the sentiment while feeling a stab in his heart each time he said it. Holding himself together while the whole town celebrated around him really didn’t sound like something fun to do.

There was a light knock on the window and he jumped, startled, dropping the can under the seat as if it burned him. Or he didn’t want anyone to see it.

Looking over he offered what he hoped came across as a sincere smile as he rolled the window down to speak to the woman on the other side. He was always happy to see her; he just wasn’t currently happy in general. “Hey, Pretty Lady.” He greeted his girlfriend. “What’s happening?”

Polly arched an eyebrow at him. “You tell me. How come you’re sitting out here all by yourself?” As if she didn’t know. But that was one of the things he loved about her. She would never push for anything, allowing him to open up if and when he felt like it.

“Sitting here by myself.” Alan smirked in return, though he wasn’t amused and he could see that she wasn’t either. He shook his head almost immediately after. “I didn’t feel like celebrating.” He admitted with a shrug.

Polly only nodded in return. “I can understand that. You want to go get something to eat at the diner or something?” It was a sincere and honest question since he wasn’t going to be eating at the picnic and she still wanted him to do so, even if it was in the same place they always went to.

Frowning a little at that, Alan shook his head. It was true that they often went to the diner together, but it was also at the diner that Polly had originally let him bare his soul and led him out of the debilitating guilt he had originally felt over the accident. Oh, he certainly still felt that guilt. All the time. Awake or asleep. But it didn’t keep him from living as it had been.

“Nah. I’ll get something to go or something. I have some paper work I really should get to.” He sighed with exaggeration, as if paper work were the worst thing in the world. While he didn’t love it, he didn’t really hate it either.

Polly studied him for a moment and then nodded slowly. “I’m going home soon. You can come over later if you want.” It wouldn’t be the first or last time he had spent the night at her house but he appreciated the offer every time nonetheless.

“I’ll probably do that.”

The smile she offered was loving and understanding and she nodded, shifting to turn away from the window. When she stood up, her gaze was caught by something and following it Alan saw Sheila Brigham, the dispatcher, coming out of the building toward him.

Instead of leaning over to roll the passenger side window down, he waited for Polly to step back and then climbed out of the car to see what she needed.

“Sorry to interrupt, Alan, but you have a phone call.” She didn’t look worried or stressed, so he assumed it wasn’t anything major. “It’s Al. He said since you weren’t at home, he figured he could get a hold of you here.”

That was surprising. More than that. His older son hadn’t really talked to him too much since leaving for college. Though not because of any kind of blame or anger or any of those kinds of feelings. He had made it quite clear, however, that he was never coming back to Castle Rock and he wanted as little to do with it as possible. There were too many memories around the loss of his mother and younger brother and though he loved his father, it was just too much.

Alan understood.

Polly was smiling again, as if amused by his shock. Probably because it shouldn’t be such a shock as it seemed to be. “Go talk to him.” She told him easily, smile shifting slightly back into that understanding one. “You know why he called today.” She paused for a moment and met his eyes. “You are still a father.”

And she was right. He had lost his youngest son, but he still had another. And it shouldn’t surprise him that said son wanted to call him on such a day. Even if it was just a brief conversation. “I’ll do that.” He kissed her cheek and then followed Sheila back into the station. Polly was right. He was still a father.

#alan pangborn #stephen king #needful things #the dark half #father's day #still a father #fanfic

The Sparrows Are Flying Again

The sparrows are flying again.

The words sent a shiver down his spine and he leaned forward in the chair for a moment, closing his eyes against the memories. It wasn’t until almost too late that he found out what the sparrows had to do with anything at all.

Psychopomps, mythological beings that escorted souls back and forth from the land of the dead.

No one had said that this event would be a real thing and it would include what seemed – and very well may have been – millions of sparrows doing just that; taking a soul back to the land of the dead. But it was a soul who shouldn’t have existed at all.

A brain tumor that was actually parts of a mostly absorbed in the womb twin that was growing on its own being removed from the brain of an eleven-year-old boy. A man, grown, writing under a pseudonym who was ‘killed’ when the man decided to go back to writing as himself. A pseudonym who took on the physical form of that long lost ‘twin,’ a violent, murderous psychopath who also took on the characteristics of the main character of the books written under his name.

The sparrows are flying again. George Stark is back from the dead.

The first and last confrontation with Stark, the man who was falling apart, rotting, losing cohesion because he really wasn’t supposed to be alive after all. A confrontation that Alan had been so sure would be his last.

He opened his eyes and leaned back in the chair, his hands twisting almost without conscious thought to send a bird flapping across the wall through the light sitting on the desk. The bird then landed on a branch and Alan stared at the shadow for a long time.

That was how it had started, sparrows perched on the branches of the trees around the house. Then they had continued to gather until such a large number screeched through the house that Alan had again been sure that they were probably going to die.

But the birds hadn’t come for them. No, they had come for Stark. To escort him back to the land of the dead where he was supposed to be. The had pecked him to death, ripped him apart and literally carried him off to…wherever they had gone.

The sparrows are flying again.

The shadow bird took flight once more and Alan’s hands moved so quickly that it seemed like several had joined it, a frown on his face as he focused before a single one took roost on a branch once more.

“A new bird!” The voice from the doorway startled him and his hands dropped as he turned toward it. Todd. His ten-year-old son was standing there with a smile on his tired face. He was always interested in any kind of tricks or sleight of hand that Alan might share with him.

Alan smiled a little in return but then it faded somewhat. “It’s late, son. What are you doing up?” He gestured for the boy to enter the dimly lit office and Todd did so without hesitation, moving to stand next to his father’s chair.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He admitted after a long moment. “I had a nightmare.” The last was almost too quiet to hear, but Alan had no troubles. “Why are you up?”

Alan was quiet for a long moment and then he told the truth. “I had a nightmare, too.” It was a common occurrence since the Beaumont affair. One didn’t have their entire belief system turned upside down while confronting something so utterly impossible as he had without something lingering behind.

“Oh.” Todd replied simply, accepting, sympathetic but quickly distracted. Perhaps not wanting to linger because he didn’t want to elaborate himself. “Will you teach me the new bird?”

“Sparrow.”

Todd smiled at that. “Will you teach me the sparrow?”

Alan nodded and shifted so that Todd could sit between his legs in the chair, both in front of the light with the wall across from them. After they were settled, he began to show the boy how to make the shadows dance.

The sparrows are flying again.

#alan pangborn #todd pangborn #stephen king #the dark half #the sparrows are flying again

Aftermath

Alan was quiet as he picked up the picture inside the glass shattered frame. It was himself and Polly having coffee in the Castle Rock Diner. They were smiling as they looked at each other. It was quite the candid shot; one he hadn’t been aware of at the time or after. Rare that they were both smiling. Though he had been to Polly’s home many times, stayed over, thought he was familiar with everything she had hanging around, this was new to him.

“What did you find?” Her voice startled him and he looked up from the picture before handing it over. “I’m surprised I’ve never seen it before.” He shrugged as he glanced around the room. The destruction didn’t end with the picture frame. The windows had also been shattered, Polly’s belongings were strewn around the room, furniture was broken. I was rather devastating and he was proud of Polly for taking this attempted retrieval of her surviving things so well. Proud and a little concerned, but he wouldn’t push her. He never did. His own home was in the same shape. Just as many in town were.

This happened when half the town was literally blown sky high by dynamite planted by two of its own residents.

Polly smiled a little and looked down at the photo. She made no attempt to stroke it or anything like that. Not only was the glass shattered and injury capable, but the arthritis had returned to her hands – though not as severe as either of them had expected – and holding it alone was becoming difficult. “It wasn’t out for everyone. It was…kept for me. Made me happy.” She glanced up at him and her smile, small as it had been, faded, sadness rising in her eyes. “Netty took it. Thought I would like it.”

Netty was one of the many people who had lost their lives in the last week. She had worked for Polly and become a good friend. It was one of the losses that hit Polly the hardest and Alan could see it plainly. “I’ll assume she was right.” He said simply. “And it’s okay.” He gestured to the photo and the fact that he was in it but had never seen it. “Everyone has their secrets.”

Polly’s expression darkened even more at the last words. “Yes.” She spoke almost hesitantly, as if she were trying to make some kind of important decision. “They do.” Whatever it was, she didn’t immediately lean one way or the other. She didn’t tell him, but she didn’t…not tell him. She didn’t move on.

He debated doing just that. Letting it go as he always did when she almost but not quite told him something, the secret of all secrets that she held so deeply inside that he sometimes wondered if she would ever reveal it. Other times he knew she eventually would because they loved each other and she would trust him enough to do so…someday.

“Polly?” He asked after a long moment, meeting her eyes, slightly hesitant himself. “Why were you mad at me? You know…when you called before…” He trailed off and gestured vaguely outside. Before everything in Castle Rock had literally gone to Hell and back. “Exactly what is it that you think I did?” At the time she hadn’t given him a chance to defend himself or even to ask for any kind of clarification. She had been angrier and more betrayed than he had ever heard and it was directed at him. He couldn’t imagine what would make her feel that way.

For an instant he saw the guilt surface in her eyes. Guilt, confusion, fear…but no anger. Whatever it had been, she wasn’t mad about it anymore. “I thought…” She trailed off herself and set the picture down before making her way to the living room, not looking to see if he followed. He did.

Stopping beside the coffee table, which was somehow in almost perfect condition despite the rest of the house, she picked up what looked like an official document and handed it to him silently. Maybe she couldn’t say what she had thought, but she could show him.

It was addressed to him in his official capacity; Sheriff Alan Pangborn of Castle Rock, Maine. But it was CCed to Miss Patricia Chalmers. The return address was San Francisco, California. A quick scan of the document showed him immediately why she was so upset and he looked up in some combination of confusion, disbelief and sadness himself. Yet, he didn’t feel the anger she had projected on him before. “You thought I was investigating you behind your back?” He didn’t add ‘you thought I would stoop so low to learn your secrets? that I cared for you so little that I wouldn’t wait for you to be ready to reveal them yourself?’

“It looks official.” She was almost whispering now, shame coloring her words. “I didn’t see it until later, but he made a mistake.”

He didn’t have to ask who ‘he’ was. Leland Gaunt. The demon who had destroyed their town and taken so many of his people. Even if he hadn’t managed to keep their souls. He didn’t say anything at all, allowing her to continue at her own pace.

Sighing, she shoved some debris off the couch and dropped down onto it, her gaze dropping to the floor as she gathered herself to tell him – finally – what had been eating at her for so long. “He addressed it to ‘Patricia Chalmers.’” She started. “I wasn’t Patricia in California. I was Polly.” A hesitation. “To everyone. To child services. They would never call me Patricia because Patricia didn’t exist there.”

Alan nodded, but she wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t really looking at the floor either. She was looking inward, into the past and he didn’t want to pull her out because he knew she needed to get this out.

“I believed it because I thought…you knew that I wasn’t telling you everything. You know that Kelton wasn’t adopted or whatever other stories are swirling around. You know there’s more.”

This was true. All of Castle Rock knew the story. Or thought they did. But none knew the details. Polly Chalmers had gotten pregnant at a young age and instead of settling down and marrying the father like a proper young lady should do, she had left. She had run off to California to do who knew what. And when she had returned there was no baby with her. She had said that she had given up the child for adoption, which had been her original plan upon arriving in California. It wasn’t what had happened.

He hadn’t known that the child hadn’t really been adopted, but he had had a feeling. He had just been waiting for her to decide when it was right to let him in. “I knew something wasn’t clicking.” He murmured in acknowledgement.

Polly nodded, but didn’t look up for another long moment. When she did there were tears in her eyes. “I didn’t put the baby up for adoption. I couldn’t. I kept him, I named Kelton and I loved him so much…” She swallowed hard and Alan nodded in understanding. He was a parent as well. A parent who had lost a child.

“It was hard. So hard. Making a life there. But, I did it. I worked as a waitress and I applied and applied for assistance, but I kept getting turned down or told to wait…” She shook her head. “I had to work and couldn’t leave Kelton alone, so I hired a girl to watch him while I was away.”

She started shaking now and Alan moved closer, kneeling down before her. He started to reach for her hands reminiscent of an equally important conversation they had had once before, but paused because with her arthritis he would just cause another kind of pain if he touched her hands. Instead, he placed his own hands on her arms just above hers in a show of support. He would wrap his arms around her to give the comfort she so greatly needed, but she needed to finish, needed to tell him how this secret had ended and she needed to see his face when she did so. He knew that as much as he knew anything else.

He didn’t prompt and after another shudder she continued. “I had finally been approved for assistance, but…there was a fire. While I was at work…” She took a deep breath, seemingly unaware of the tears rolling down her cheeks now. “I can remember the call so vividly. I can hear it when I try to.” Her voice dropped, almost silent. “Even or especially when I don’t want to.” She shook her head. “Kelton…well, he was gone. The babysitter, too.” She paused for a long moment. “He wasn’t adopted, he’s dead. And it’s my fault.”

Alan met her eyes, silent for his own time. “Do you remember how you got me to look at Annie and Todd’s death in a completely different way? Pulled me out of that debilitating guilt –“ That he still felt more often than he would like, but needed so badly at the time. “Well, the same goes for you. Kelton’s death isn’t your fault, Polly. You loved him, you did what you could for him. It’s just…sometimes love isn’t enough.” He spoke softly himself; her pain echoed in his eyes before he moved to sit next to her, to allow her to lean in if she chose to.

She did.

“I’m sorry.” He had been thinking the words, knew they were stupid and wouldn’t help anyone, but it was Polly who spoke them. “For thinking you would betray me like that. I knew…deep down. But –“ She shrugged in his arms a little. It had been very convincing. She shifted just enough to look at him again. “And I’m sorry it took me until it was almost too late to tell you.”

“Polly, I –“

She cut him off. “Especially after you told me about your secret, about Annie and Todd, both at the beginning and…after we were together.” It was clear in both her expression and tone how much that meant to her. That he had opened himself wide for her. Even if he didn’t always tell her how much he still suffered over it.

Alan arched an eyebrow at that. “That wasn’t exactly a secret.” He tried his best to keep his own expression neutral at best. “The Rock is a small town and a car accident that took the life of the town Sheriff’s wife and son is pretty big news.”

Polly frowned at that and then shook her head. “But you told me.” He had told her more than just about the accident, more than the basics. He had told her his feelings, let her see his obsessive guilt, his depression. “You trusted me with all of you and I…I wanted to do the same, but just couldn’t do it.”

Alan’s neutral expression faded almost immediately and he reached out to brush her hair from her forehead. “But you did.” He told her. “It took you a little longer, but I’m a patient man. And it was your secret to reveal or not. You have the right to have your private things, Polly.” He looked at her for a long moment. “But I’m glad you told me.” For her sake even more than his.

Polly considered that. “Me, too.” She admitted. “I’m –“ This time he cut her off instead of the other way around. “No more apologies.” He told her firmly. “None are needed.”

A smile, small but grateful, graced Polly’s features. “I love you, Alan.”

“I love you, too, Pretty Lady.” He had known all along how he felt and told her before, but he was never surer. “I love you, too.”

Polly laid her head on his shoulder for what seemed like forever but wasn’t nearly so long. “Alan?” She asked after the quiet had gone on almost too long.

“Yeah?” He didn’t shift to look at her, just kept his arm around her as she spoke. He was in no hurry to continue their mission to save what they could of her belongings before moving onto his own.

She didn’t continue, didn’t ask her question right away and then she finally spoke again. “Are you going to stay?” He did almost look at her then, but let her clarify. “To help rebuild and…” She trailed off, sounding unsure and he couldn’t blame her. Neither knew what was going to happen to Castle Rock and its survivors now.

Alan hadn’t really thought about it, but he already knew the answer. “No.” He drew the word out slightly, not quite hesitantly, more like he was thinking about it as he said it. “I don’t think I am. I think I’m done here.”

Polly considered that. “What will you do?”

Alan shrugged slightly, feeling her head on his shoulder shift slightly as he did so. “Move on, I guess. To where, I don’t know. I think I did what I was supposed to here.”

“You saved the town.”

Alan tensed slightly at that. “I just made the bad guy leave. I didn’t save anything.” The town had still been practically destroyed, so very many people had been lost. He hadn’t acted soon enough; hadn’t done nearly enough for those he was sworn to protect.

“You did.” Polly didn’t point out the souls he had literally stolen from the demon or devil that had been Leland Gaunt. The souls that, even with their destination unknown, were no longer in the hands that had stolen them and would give them a much worse fate. She didn’t point out that no one else had been able to drive the evil away. “You did.”

She didn’t allow him to protest again. “Wherever you go, I would like to go with you.” She told him, now shifting to look at him again and he couldn’t hide the surprise at her words. They had just confessed their love once more, she had revealed her greatest secret, they had survived what could have been the end of their world and yet this surprised him. “I think, I did what I was supposed to do here, too.” She continued and then she managed a tiny but genuine smile. “I think I was supposed to meet you.”

“And to save me.”

Polly shook her head at that. “To save each other.”

#needful things novel #stephen king #alan pangborn #polly chalmers #fanfic

A Year

Throwing Goose’s dog tags into the ocean. It wasn’t the kind of closure where you let go, but rather the opposite. Carole had been given both sets and she had placed one set in his hands, no words needed. What he decided to do with them was up to him, though it was likely everyone thought he would keep them as a reminder of his best friend. Instead, he had done this. He wasn’t letting go at all. He was ensuring that every time he flew over the water, he had Goose there with him.

---

July 29, 1987. A year to the day since the worst day of his life. Pete knew that many would call him dramatic for the thought and it wouldn’t be the first time anyone had considered him that. Nor would it be the last. He was loud and proud most of the time, but sometimes he withdrew completely. It was hard for anyone, even himself to tell when either would happen. He was the kind who didn’t tend to think about the consequences of his actions until he had to actually deal with them. They would tell him to move on, or that he should have done so already. It had been a year, after all. What was he waiting for? Why was he allowing the past to hold him back?

He didn’t remember the immediate aftermath of the ’rescue’ that brought him back to the nearest ship after he and Goose crashed into the ocean and those rescuers told him he had to let go. He remembered COLD. He remembered LOSS. He remembered GUILT, SHOCK. And he remembered more than one person telling him he was going to be okay. He remembered that was the stupidest thing anyone could say because it was a lie. He would never be okay again.

How did one move on from the loss of their best friend, chosen brother? Especially when they were the reason they had died? Oh, he had been found not guilty in all the ways that mattered. All the ways the world thought mattered. It was decreed an accident and his life and career went on. Though there were a few bumps along the way for sure.

He had thrown himself into teaching at TopGun at first, though that had only lasted a couple months. One class and he knew that wasn’t for him, despite the joy he took in teaching others to ‘fly like Mav,’ which he knew his superiors hated. He had also thrown himself into taking care of Goose’s family – his family. He wasn’t around all the time, but he was there for Carole and Bradley as much as he could be.

He wasn’t Goose and wasn’t trying to replace him because no one could. But he was responsible for what had happened, he cared about those left behind and that made him responsible for them as well.

Goose would want them to be taken care of and if he couldn’t do it himself, well…Pete would have to do as a poor substitute.

Approaching the home before him, he hesitated. It wasn’t something he normally did because this was as much home to him as anywhere else, sometimes more than his own apartment. He didn’t visit as much as he’d like, but as much as possible, even just for a ‘hey, how are you doing?’ kind of visit.

He had a key and hadn’t had to knock for as long as he could remember. Probably not since he and Goose had met back in flight school. He was always welcomed and his presence was sometimes insisted upon whether he wanted to ‘intrude’ or not. He had never been turned away and the only thing ever questioned was how long he was able to stay.

This was different. This wasn’t just a visit or a quick stop to say hi or drop off a present or something that might be needed. This was a specific visit, a specific anniversary. This was a reminder of everything he wanted to forget and he would be a reminder of the hole missing in both their lives because it wasn’t Mav and Goose, it was just Mav. Without Goose.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin and made his way to the door. After another brief hesitation, he raised his hand and knocked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done so, but something made him do so this time.

When the door was pulled open, he attempted a smile, but it didn’t come close to meeting his eyes. It faded completely when he saw her. She was still as pretty as she always had been, but she had changed. She wasn’t as happy, carefree…alive as she once had been. Her blonde hair was still kept short, but he suspected that was because anything else would just take too much energy that she didn’t have to care for.

The dark circles under her eyes were prominent, as had become normal over the last year and her posture wasn’t as straight and tall as it once had been. She didn’t exactly curl in on herself, but he knew she sometimes wanted to.

Several emotions flickered across her face when Carole saw him; surprise, pleasure, confusion and then understanding as a small, sad smile of her own appeared. “Pete. Why are you knocking? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that.” She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t do it again, it’s weird.” She stepped aside to allow him to enter, not needing to verbally invite him into somewhere he was always welcome.

“I don’t know. It felt…” He shrugged as she closed the door behind them and turned to face him. He shifted his weight slightly and then reached out to hug her. He didn’t hold too tight in case she wanted to deny it, to pull away, but she leaned in briefly before she finally did back up again and he offered another attempt at a smile. “I know neither of us wants to think about…things. But I didn’t think we should be alone either. So –“He held up the bottle in his hand. “I brought booze and we can not think about things together today.”

#top gun #pete 'maverick' mitchell #nick 'goose' bradshaw #carole bradshaw #a year

Anniversary

MURDER SPREE STUNS WOODSBORO BLOODBATH AT HOME WOODSBORO HIGH SCHOOL COUPLE BRUTALLY MURDERED WOODSBORO KILLER ON THE LOOSE! RIGHT OUT OF A SCARY MOVIE!

---

It was hard to believe that thirty years had come and gone already. Sometimes the original murders felt like they had happened yesterday. Sometimes it felt like they never ended. Sidney had been seventeen when her boyfriend and best friend’s boyfriend went on a killing spree that ended in not only several deaths of their friends, but their own deaths as well.

All because of her. In a roundabout way. Really, because of her mother. And because they were mentally unwell. There was no way around that. Sane people didn’t go on killing sprees for revenge and for fun. Or for any reason. Sane people didn’t follow in the footsteps of serial killers and bring seven – eight if one counted Sidney’s mom – deaths up to…well, Sidney had lost count over the years. It was a never-ending circle, it seemed.

“Thirty years to the day, a memorial will be held for those lost to the first Woodsboro Murders, the tragedy that started it all.”

The reporter’s words made her frown a little, but she wasn’t surprised. And those who had died did deserve some kind of memorial. A legitimate one, though. Not one sensationalized as the story had become over the years. Not a Stab memorial, not a media memorial, but one held by those truly mourning the losses. Those who actually knew. Those who had lived it and still…well, lived.

“Steven Orth, Casey Becker, Tatum Riley, Arthur Himbry, Kenny Jones, Stuart Macher and Billy Loomis lost their lives in a bloodbath that rocked the town of Woodsboro like the plot of some scary movie.”

As each name was spoken, a picture of the person it belonged to was flashed across the screen, holding Sidney’s gaze and making her swallow hard to suppress the tears she hadn’t expected to spring up. She was somewhat surprised that Billy and Stu were going to be part of this memorial, though they had lost their lives as well. They were the reason there needed to be a memorial to begin with.

Sidney arched an eyebrow at the rest of the statement. The reporter on the screen wasn’t Gale Weathers, but the quote was from the ‘eyewitness account’ that the woman gave immediately after the last murders that night. Not that this should have been surprising. Interviews, videos, newspapers, books, even the movies based on these and the murders to follow were all widely available and there were plenty of people who harbored what bordered – and sometimes crossed over into – an obsession with it.

Details were given as to exactly where and what time in Woodsboro the memorial would be held and Sidney continued frowning at the screen as she debated whether she should go or not. Oh, she knew she should, for those being remembered, but part of her was afraid to do so. Part of her thought she was tempting fate by returning to her hometown yet one more time. Especially after swearing she wouldn’t. Again.

It wasn’t like she was knowingly walking into another killing spree. Not like when she had gone back after Dewey’s death…but, it wasn’t like such a memorial being advertised nationwide would actually be safe either. There was no guarantee anything would happen, but also no guarantee that it wouldn’t. She had moved her family to a completely different small town far away and disappeared from all of the publicity that had followed her for her entire life for a reason.

“Are you going to go?” The voice came from behind her and she slowly turned to see her daughter standing behind her, her own gaze moving from the television to her mother. She and Tatum had been arguing more and more lately, which was something that happened between teenagers and their parents, but she still hated it. Tatum had read her book, had seen the movies loosely based on her life and the events around the multiple massacres she had been involved in or connected to and wanted to know the truth from her.

It was normal for teenagers to want to know about their parents’ lives before they were born. It was also normal for parents to not want to tell those teenagers everything about those lives. It was not so normal for those parents to not want to talk about any of it because everything about their younger lives seemed tied to trauma and tragedy and they were still attempting to fully move on as well as to keep them safe.

After a moment’s consideration, Sidney shook her head. “I don’t know.” She hedged. Another glance at the screen showed a shot of all of those who were being memorialized before the news switched to the next television show to follow. She wanted to do something for those lost friends, but part of her hesitated.

Tatum met her eyes, studying her for a long moment. “I think you should.” She watched her mother. “They were your friends, right? Well, why wouldn’t you want to remember them? Why wouldn’t you want to make sure that someone who actually cared was there with all the people who are going to attend just to say they were there or to virtue signal or whatever?”

Sidney blinked at that because her daughter had a point. She had seen what sensationalism did and what people did for a moment of fame, what people were fascinated by because they didn’t think of those involved as actual people. It was just a scary movie to them, after all.

“I guess you’re right.” She reluctantly agreed, giving into that part of her that had wanted to go all along. She knew not everyone was going to take this seriously or go for the right reasons, but that just made it more important that the few who were there for what it was meant to be showed up.

Tatum smiled a little, looking pleased that she had agreed and when she opened her mouth, Sidney held up a hand before she could speak again. “No.”

Tatum’s smile slipped and shifted into a frown. “No, what?” Though it looked like she already knew.

“No, you aren’t coming with me.” Sidney told her flatly but sternly. The thought was terrifying in itself. This had all started with her, or with her family, and she wasn’t going to let it end that way, too. She hadn’t initially wanted kids at all for that reason, but now that she had them, she would do whatever she had to in order to protect them.

Tatum sighed, pursed her lips and then took a deep breath, surprising Sidney a bit by not getting upset or stomping out of the room. “Why not?” She demanded. “You won’t tell me anything, so this way I can at least…see the truth.”

Sidney frowned at that. Tatum wasn’t wrong, but there was no way she was going to take her into the lion’s den like that. “No, Tatum.”

“So, you’re going to go alone?” Tatum was getting upset now, her eyes flashing, though her hands didn’t go to her hips or anything obviously childish like that. She didn’t wait for a response. “Do you think you’re the only one who worries about their family?!”

That demand was a surprise and Sidney’s eyes widened a little.

“I’ve read your book, seen the movies, the interviews…” Tatum paused to calm down. “Even though you won’t tell me, I still know stuff and you going alone doesn’t make the rest of us feel just fine because you’re protecting us.” She stared at Sidney before continuing. “Who’s protecting you? Dad can’t go because someone has to stay with the girls.” Even she knew there was no way her mother was taking her younger sisters anywhere near this. “I know I’m not a fighter like you or a cop like dad, but…you shouldn’t be alone.”

Sidney’s jaw didn’t drop, but it might as well have. She was speechless, not something that often happened to her and she had no argument that her daughter was going to accept. Sure, she was the parent and could just continue to say no, but…did Tatum have a point? She knew how she worried; it wasn’t fair to think her family didn’t worry the same way about her.

“Fine.” She felt a small satisfaction at the surprised look on her daughter’s face. She clearly hadn’t expected agreement. “But we’re going to the shooting range and you’re going to learn to protect yourself before we go.”

“What? But –“

“No. That is not negotiable. I’m probably being stupid by taking you at all, by not making you learn all of this your whole life, but I’m not going to be stupid enough to take you to Woodsboro, where everything started, without at least knowing you know the basics of protecting yourself.”

---

Driving into town was like driving into the past. Oh, the town didn’t look exactly the same, it had been too long for that. But there was enough small-town Woodsboro there to throw her back into her own teenage years and before. The memories flashed through her mind as she glanced at each building, each park, or tree or house. She avoided driving past her own former house, her high school, though there wasn’t much else she could avoid in order to get to their hotel. It wasn’t like there was a lot of town.

Tatum had been surprisingly quiet as they entered the town limits, merely taking everything in from the town around them to her mother’s reaction to it all. She didn’t immediately question everything, didn’t point out anything she saw or anything that connected to what she had read or watched about everything.

Checking into the hotel didn’t take long. Oh, sure, there were probably people still around that Sidney knew and could stay with, but she didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to relive her history, though she knew it would be impossible not to, really. A hotel felt safer somehow. She wasn’t letting her guard down enough to trust anyone with becoming the temporary ‘home’ of herself and her daughter.

Telling Tatum that she wanted to see the memorial before everyone else arrived for the official event, she led the way to the high school. Of course, that would be where it was held even though not all the deaths had been teenagers. All but one had connections to the place.

The school didn’t really look much different than it had thirty years ago. Oh, there were a few upgrades, but it was still a small-town high school in every way that mattered. As they approached the visual memorial wall, Sidney paused and swallowed hard. Front and center of the pictures was one of her favorites of her lost best friend, the person she had named her daughter for.

Tatum Riley Beloved daughter, sister, best friend

Feeling tears welling up, Sidney reached out to touch the photo. It was a familiar one. She had a copy herself, in the scrapbook that she never took out to look at, that she never took out to share her family, her daughter whom had inherited the name.

“This is where your name came from.” She told her daughter softly, reaching out to add a folded and taped note with a flower to those gathered around the base of the memorial. “She was my best friend. My sister. She was fierce and loyal and strong. She was outgoing and confident and protective.” She smiled, though the guilt, loss, and sadness shone through. “Things I wanted for you. Things I’m beginning to see in you.”

Tatum looked blindsided for a moment, tears starting to gather in her own eyes. Before she could speak in return or reach out for her mother, they heard footsteps nearing and both tensed. Sidney’s expression hardened, not into something frightening, only tense and wary as she automatically stepped in front of her daughter.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

#scream 7 #scream franchise #fanfic #sidney prescott evans #sidney prescott #tatum evans #anniversary

Operation Save Duke

“Mitchell, we need to talk. You’re gonna need a drink for this.”

Well, that was a concerning way to start a conversation if there ever was one and Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell’s mind spun, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong this time. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything, but with his former instructor standing on his doorstep, something was up.

A closer look made him think that the man might not necessarily be there in an official capacity, or at least not entirely. Mentioning the necessity of a drink added to that line of thinking. Clearly Viper was not pleased by whatever he had to say, but he wasn’t as stiff or…commanding as he likely would have been had this just been about an assignment or something that Maverick had done wrong.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have one handy, then.” He arched an eyebrow and stepped aside to allow Viper entrance into his home, gesturing for him to come inside. It was neat and somewhat sparse, not entirely a surprise as Maverick wasn’t one to be overly material about most things.

Leading the way toward the living room, also clean and containing only basic things. A couch and coffee table, an end table with a few photos on it – one of Maverick as a child with his father, one of himself and Goose, one of himself and Iceman, and a couple others. There was a television, but it didn’t look like it was used much, and a stereo with a few cassette tapes beside it. The coffee table was perhaps the most surprising as there were several books piled atop it. Reading wasn’t exactly a pastime that Maverick was known for.

There was a small hallway that led to a bathroom and a small bedroom across from that and the kitchen was just off the living room. It was toward the kitchen that Maverick then headed. Another room with only a few things. Aside from the things that come with the home like the fridge and stove, there was a small table with two chairs on either end. If one were to look, there wasn’t a lot in the cupboards or even the fridge – mostly drinks and quick meals. Every indication said that Maverick didn’t really spend a lot of time here and when he did, it wasn’t any extended amount.

Opening the fridge, he pushed a couple things aside and retrieved a couple bottles of beer. Closing the door behind him, he grabbed a bottle opener, opened the bottles, returned to the living room and held one out toward Viper. “I’m assuming that if I’m going to need this, so are you.” He smirked because that was what he did, showing amusement even if he didn’t necessarily feel it.

The smirk grew a little as he stepped around the other man and paused in front of the couch. “Am I okay to stand here or do I need to sit, too?” His smirk grew a little with actual amusement this time as he lifted the bottle to his lips to take a drink while still watching his guest.

“This can’t be some kind of deployment assignment or anything like that since you came here and you don’t exactly look official and this isn’t how those things are relayed anyway.” He paused and thought for a moment. “And I’m pretty sure I haven’t done anything to warrant a visit. At least not lately.”

He gestured to the couch because them both standing around awkwardly wasn’t exactly an ideal feeling and he hoped that no matter what this was about, at least sitting down would make it less tense. “So, I guess have a seat and tell me whatever it is that requires alcohol in order to be discussed.”

Viper accepted the offered bottle, but didn’t take a swig himself. Nor did he smile at Maverick’s attempt to lighten the situation. “I’ll stand.” He replied simply, basically ignoring the rest and making Maverick’s smirk fade a little. Apparently sitting wasn’t an option and neither was alleviating the tension that seemed to be rising instead.

“Well, I guess I’ll not be rude and do the same.” The attempt at levity was weak and Maverick didn’t bother to smirk or smile again. “So, just tell me what this is because you’re actually making me a little nervous. Did someone die or something?” He tried to say it lightly, offhandedly, but then he frowned. “Wait…did someone die?”

Viper was silent for a long moment, meandering over to the table with the pictures and reaching out to pick up the one of Maverick and his father. “No…and that’s why I’m here.”

Maverick’s eyes narrowed a little as he watched the other man who was studying the picture rather than looking at him now. “What does that mean?” Viper wasn’t exactly one to beat around the bush when he had something to say, so it was another thing that was out of place in this situation.

After another long moment, Viper held out the photo and when Maverick automatically accepted it, he continued. “It means that Duke isn’t dead.” He said flatly but extremely seriously.

There was another long silence before Maverick scowled, dropping the photo back on the end table. “That’s not funny.” He nearly snarled the words. Duke – his father – had been shot down in Vietnam when he was a child. The classified circumstances of that death were what had kept Maverick out of the Naval Academy and had followed him throughout his life.

Viper had flown with Duke, been wingman even. Viper was the one to tell Maverick the truth of his father’s death and that it wasn’t the dishonor he – and everyone else – had believed, though it was still classified and could have had very serious consequences for Viper if anyone else found out he spoke about it.

Viper let him say what he needed to, though looked a little surprised that it was so simple. In words, anyway. What was being felt was definitely anything but simple. “No, it’s not.” He agreed softly, meeting Maverick’s eyes. “But it’s the truth.”

Maverick’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak again. The silence was enough to know that he was silently demanding an explanation because some part of him did know that Viper wouldn’t lie about this…

“He was…abducted.” The words came slowly, delicately, as if Viper were trying to piece thoughts together, put words to what he needed to say.

“Abducted.” The word was repeated, Maverick trying to comprehend what he was being told, to change the thinking, everything he had believed his whole life. “By who? Where is he? Another country?” He had a million questions, but if this really was true then where his father was now was the most important.

And he so wanted to believe it was true despite everything.

Viper frowned a little more and then reluctantly answered. “Another planet.”

Maverick stared at him for a long moment in disbelief and then let out a disgusted sound. “Get out.” It wasn’t an order he thought he would ever give this man who had become almost like another father to him from his time at Top Gun on. But it was all he could think outside of the anger and betrayal he felt at such a joke.

Viper winced but didn’t look surprised. He also didn’t move. “No. Maverick…Pete. I’m serious.” He didn’t move to step closer, to try to touch Maverick or calm him down because he knew what a shock this was and his first reaction had been disbelief as well. “And I can prove it. Or, rather, I brought someone who can prove it. Someone who received the message. Or intercepted it. Specifics on that part don’t really matter.”

He hadn’t believed himself until he had seen this message. Strange in itself because it wasn’t a video or any kind of message he was familiar with. It was a hologram that was so very obviously Duke that it was almost like returning to the past. Oh, he looked rough, the years having not been kind to him, but it was him.

And the message, despite being shocking, was short and simple; a plea for help. A call for rescue from anyone who might hear.

He didn’t wait for Maverick to respond, figuring it was best to provide this proof before the other man tried to physically throw him out. Moving toward the door, he opened it and gestured to the person he had brought with him. “Come in.” He murmured before turning back to Maverick.

“Pete Mitchell, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. He has a message from your father.”

#operation save duke #rp starter #top gun #mike 'viper' metcalf #pete 'maverick' mitchell #obi-wan kenobi #star wars #top gun/star wars #the crossover you didn't know you needed

Sea Cat

The pitter-patter of paws shouldn’t have been heard above the normal sounds aboard the naval aircraft carrier, but somehow, they were. Or the presence of the creature those paws belonged to was enough for the imagination to create the sound, its oddness making the man the small creature followed frown more than he had been. He wasn’t sure how it had even managed to stow aboard and he sure as hell didn’t have a clue why it had attached itself to him of everyone to choose from.

Salty air blown from the ocean around them, whipped through his hair as he made his way up to the deck. It was clear enough for a short time to do a few deck runs and that was what he intended to do. He could go to the on-board gym, but he wanted to be in the open air, even if he wasn’t up in the air at the moment.

It was immediately clear that he wasn’t the only one to have the thought of a few deck runs as someone was already there doing just that. Operations continued as usual, but the deck itself was as clear as it could be and it wasn’t hard to tell who the other person was as he approached, slowing down as he did so. Apparently, Maverick was late to the game.

The cool and collected blonde looked to be considering if he wanted to speak at all as he slowed to a walk, making the decision as he came even with Maverick and arching an eyebrow before any greetings were made.

“Maverick.”

“Iceman.”

“Deck’s yours.” Iceman gestured around them, having clearly taken his own time with his runs before Maverick had entered the scene. Or just not wanting company while doing so. Something Maverick was equally familiar with as he didn’t always want company either.

Maverick nodded his thanks as if it was something the other man had any kind of control or ownership over and he could run wherever he wanted so long as it was clear enough to do so and he wasn’t otherwise occupied.

As the blonde moved to step around him, he frowned and looked down, making Maverick follow his gaze to find that his former shadow was now running through and around Iceman’s legs before returning to his own. “What is that?” Iceman’s tone was something between disgust, confusion, disbelief and a couple things Maverick was pretty sure he didn’t want to identify.

“A cat.” He shrugged as if this were no big deal at all and the creature wasn’t the most annoying thing he had encountered on the carrier thus far.

Iceman rolled his eyes. “I can see that. What is it doing here?” He glanced around because pets weren’t allowed, it wasn’t a mascot and while Maverick was known for doing what he wanted, rules be damned, it wasn’t likely that he would bring any kind of pet on a mission. He wasn’t even known for having any pets or particularly liking any animals.

Maverick sighed dramatically, as if he had only been waiting for someone to ask. “It won’t leave me alone! I don’t know where it came from or how it got here, but it seems to think I’m the greatest thing it’s ever seen.” He paused. “What do I do with it?”

Iceman’s lips twitched slightly. “Throw it overboard? That would get rid of it.” Maverick’s expression said what he thought about that and Iceman shook his head.

Shaking his head, Maverick looked down at the cat. “I need it to leave me alone.”

Iceman arched an eyebrow at that. “What’s the big deal? Things start picking up around here and it will run and hide or something else will happen that gets rid of it.” Blunt, but likely true.

“It decided to stick to me today.”

“So?”

“Well…it’s a black cat and this is Friday the 13th.”

Iceman just looked at him for a long moment. “I didn’t take you for the superstitious type, Mitchell.”

Maverick sighed. “I’m not, that was just an excuse. But it can’t stay. Naval ships don’t allow mascots or whatever this might be.” He considered that. “But they once did. Ship cats were actually a thing up until the 70’s when they were banned. They were good for morale, for pest control and stuff like that. A lot of times they were rescued on missions. Though they were more popular on surface combatants and auxiliaries than carriers.” He blinked when he saw Iceman just looking at him again. “I’m not as stupid as people think I am, you know.”

“People don’t think you’re stupid. They think you’re reckless, dangerous, insubordinate and endlessly irritating.” Iceman met his eyes. “I might be ‘people.’”

“None of that helps me out with the nuisance.” Maverick sighed as he looked down again to see said feline staring up at him adoringly. While he usually appreciated that expression, it wasn’t one he wanted to see on such a pesky problem right now.

“Give it to your girlfriend.”

Maverick scowled a little at that. “She’s not my girlfriend.” At least not officially.

“Not the point.” Iceman replied easily. “Tell her it’s a present or something. She’ll probably love a kitten. Especially as a holiday present.”

Maverick frowned a little at that. “Holiday?” He didn’t have any idea of any holidays that were any time near, so he had no idea what the other man was talking about.

“Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, Mitchell. We’re docking in the morning for a couple days.” He looked down on Maverick both physically and with his tone. “Don’t you have plans with your girlfriend?”

“Um –“ He shook his head and then plowed past that negative. “Do you and Sarah have plans?”

“Yes.”

His expression lightened into something more mischievous. “Does Sarah like cats?”

“No.”

It was said in such a way that that idea was stopped abruptly in its tracks and Iceman shook his head again. “If you’re not going to throw it overboard, give it to Cara and be done with it.” He stepped around both Maverick and his small shadow, done with the whole pointless conversation himself. “Better get your deck runs in now. Things won’t be clear much longer.”

---

Standing outside the house he had only seen one time before this, Maverick rang the doorbell and waited for the occupant to answer. When the door was pulled open, he couldn’t help but grin because it really was good to see his girlfriend-not-officially-girlfriend and her own surprised expression certainly seemed just as pleased.

“Surprise!” He grinned a little more, holding out a bouquet of roses that he held in one hand. “These are for you.” He waited for her to smell the roses and then quickly lifted his other hand as well, shoving the small furry bundle at her. “And this, too! I mean, if you like cats…” He continued as she fumbled to accept the cat rather than allowing it to fall to the ground between them. “I call it Nuisance, but you can call it whatever you want.”

He didn’t give her a real chance to respond before adding. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

#top gun fanfic #drabble #sea cat #pete 'maverick' mitchell #tom 'iceman' kazansky #valentine's day

Invasion

Admiral Mitchell. It had an odd ring to it, even just in his head. It was even stranger to hear anyone say it. Especially because he was still trying to accept that it was him they were speaking to or about. It was almost a relief when someone – though it was quite rare – screwed up and called him Captain, or started to before correcting themselves. He had been that for so long that it was hard to adjust to the change. Of all the things he had been called throughout his life, this was never on the list he had considered.

Strategic operations and planning weren’t necessarily new to him, but doing so from the ground or rather the flagship he was stationed on, when he wasn’t going to be part of those operations personally certainly was. As an Admiral, he was responsible for commanding large units; strike groups, task forces, and major shore installations. That was different and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about any of it. He didn’t feel that he was necessarily bad at any of it, it just wasn’t what he was meant to do.

He wasn’t surprised that it was Cyclone who had been promoted to Ice’s position after the death of the former, though in his mind no one would ever live up to the legacy he had stepped into.

A small amount of respect had been earned on both sides and Pete had settled somewhat into his own new position with a lot less chaos than most people would have expected. He and Cyclone – Admiral Simpson - still didn’t really like each other, but they also didn’t dislike each other. It kind of just was what it was between them. The man was his superior officer and he would treat him as such.

Being summoned to said superior’s office did come as somewhat of a surprise, but not at the same time. It wasn’t like they never talked; it just wasn’t always an official summons such as this was. That indicated that it was either something quite important, something classified, or maybe both.

His steps were quick but dignified as his boots thumped across the floor toward Admiral Simpson’s office. The door was open and the Admiral wasn’t the only one inside, which made him arch an eyebrow, but again didn’t entirely surprise him. When he got close enough to see who the other person in the room was, he did feel a bit of that surprise.

He and Lieutenant Seresin had an interesting though not entirely long past. The ego on the younger man was a match to Pete’s own and that caused quite a few clashes between them. But, Seresin was good, so the ego wasn’t entirely unwarranted.

Postures weren’t officially crisp, though the unspoken respect and seriousness between them was still present, so Pete entered the office and greeted both with a crisp nod, his own posture still somewhat stiff since he didn’t know what this was about and part of him hated having no warning whatsoever. “Admiral Simpson, Lieutenant Seresin.” He didn’t salute, but his tone was formal. He knew Seresin had been scheduled leave, but it looked like that was just wishful thinking for the younger man at this point.

Admiral Simpson nodded in return, “Admiral Mitchell.” His own greeting wasn’t cold, but echoed Pete’s formality for a moment. “At ease.” He added, making Pete shift his position slightly though ‘ease’ wasn’t a word he would use for this situation, even without knowing just what it was.

Simpson looked between the two of them with a rather unreadable expression before he finally spoke. “We need you to fly a mission, Mitchell.” His gaze met Pete’s for a long moment before he added. “With Seresin here.”

Pete blinked in surprise at that. While Admirals could fly, it wasn’t something they usually did beyond some kind of display or something along those lines. He had pretty much given up combat mission flights. It was one of the things he already hated about his promotion. “Sir?”

The Admiral’s lips twitched slightly, as if he enjoyed surprising Pete. Which was probably the case. They weren’t exactly friends and their history was a bit rockier than either were going to speak of. “You heard me.” He nodded between Pete and Jake, the twitch fading as quickly as it had come. “There has been a…development and all hands are needed on deck.” He glanced between them again. “Or, in the air as it may be.”

“A development?” Pete bit his tongue on the demand to know why he didn’t already know about whatever this was, hating that he sounded like a confused booter. Especially in front of anyone else.

“Mmm. An…invasion of sorts.” The Admiral’s gaze landed on Pete once more and he seemed to be waiting for either another question or an echo of his statement. When none came, he continued. “Or, we’re pretty sure it could turn into that. Reaching out, making contact, has resulted in disaster to those ‘welcome wagons.’”

Pete frowned, his forehead creasing in frustration at the roundabout way the Admiral was talking and confusion. “No disrespect, sir. But what in the hell are you talking about?”

He was frustrated, angry that he didn’t already know. If he was going to be a part of any mission, flying, strategy, directing from a flight deck, he needed to be in the know. There was no reason, no matter how enjoyable his surprise might be to others, to beat around the bush or spring it on him in a meeting with someone else. Even if that someone else would be his partner on the mission that still hadn’t really been revealed in any understandable way.

The Admiral’s eyes narrowed and Pete wondered if it was in annoyance or because he wanted to say whatever he had to say in his own way, get to it in his own time. Neither boded well and Pete didn’t hesitate to hold his superior’s gaze.

“I’m speaking about an invasion, Mitchell.” The words were nearly snapped, the Admiral’s expression remaining completely serious. “From foreign air space.”

Pete frowned more at that. “Which foreign space?” He was getting tired of this taking so long. There was no reason not to just get to the point. “Sir.” He added as an afterthought only because it wasn’t just the two of them.

The Admiral stared at him for a long moment, that soul reaching gaze shifting to Jake for a moment before he continued. “Outer space, Mitchell. Seresin.”

“Outer –“ Pete blinked again, disbelief coursing through him at the audacity of the man to call them here for what had sounded like such a serious life or death mission only to toy with them in the end. It wasn’t professional, it wasn’t acceptable.

He took a deep breath and then smirked a little, though that anger at being made a fool was still present beneath. “You hear that, Seresin? Outer space. We’re fighting aliens.” He shook his head in disgust. “If this is a joke –“ He forced the next word out “- sir, it’s not a good one.”

There was a long, tense silence as Pete waited for the Admiral to reveal the real reason they were there, why he thought it the least bit appropriate to fuck with them like this. And when he spoke, the smirk faded under the tone, the completely serious expression that somehow looked more honest than he had ever seen. “This is not a joke, Admiral.” The formal address somehow made it hit harder. “We are ‘fighting aliens,’ as you so eloquently put it. And you two are doing so together.”

#top gun maverick #top gun #pete 'maverick' mitchell #jake 'hangman' seresin #beau 'cyclone' simpson #alien invasion #roleplay reply #admiral mitchell

The Best of the Best

“It’s time to let go.”

“I don’t know how.”

He had never thought he would find himself in this position. Reading the eulogy at the funeral of the best of the best. Someone who deserved to be standing here more than any of them. Truth be told, he had always thought he would be the one in the casket long before now. It was part of why he had tried not to get too close to too many people. So no one had to be standing here mourning the loss of someone they had cared about most of their life.

“You can be my wingman any time.”

“Bullshit. You can be mine!”

Ice had never allowed that withdrawal from…life, from friendship and then some. Ever since that first dog fight after graduating from Top Gun, they had been close. Oh, they weren’t always deployed or assigned together and while Maverick kept himself from advancing as much as possible in order to continue flying – what he did best – Ice had advanced to the top.

Four-star Admiral and Commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet. It was no less than he deserved and he had used that position to help Maverick time and time again. Ice was the reason that he was still around rather than grounded permanently or worse. He wouldn’t have a career without the perfect wingman.

“Ice understood what it was to be a wingman.” He nearly choked on the words, the truth of them welling up in the tears in his eyes and the catch in his throat. No one knew better what a wingman really was. What was he going to do without that wingman? Without that friend? Without that someone who had always been there, in the shadows, waiting for him to screw up so he could fix it? So, he could make him realize that he really was good at what he did, that he was needed and the Navy would be foolish to let him go?

“A wingman is willing to defend your life with their own…stay with you no matter how impossible the odds…more than anything, a wingman is there to push you beyond your limits, encourage you to find the very best in yourself.”

It wasn’t fair. The thought was childish, but it was one he couldn’t dispel. It shouldn’t have been like this. Ice had deserved so much more, had earned it, had struggled for it. And yet, here they were.

“Ice was a wingman to his family, his friends, to every life he touched.” He paused, swallowing hard and lifting his chin. He could do this. He had to do this. It was the least he could do. His gaze drifted to Sarah, but immediately skipped away to return to the picture at the head of the casket and then the casket itself. “That’s why I know he’ll never be truly gone.”

He stepped forward and placed his wings on the casket, pausing before slamming his fist down to embed them. He took a step back and saluted, not looking up as there was a rumbling crescendo of jets above as the Blue Angels streaked across the sky. One pulled up into a vertical climb: the ‘missing man’ formation as everyone else’s gaze were drawn skyward. He didn’t really remember what happened after that until he found himself in Cyclone’s office, funeral complete, friend gone.

“Who’s the best pilot?”

Ice was the best pilot and he always would be.

#top gun maverick #top gun #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #ice's funeral #fanfic

Memories

“This is a bad idea.” Sitting in the passenger seat of Charlie’s car, he squinted through the ever-present sunglasses, looking out at the rows of gravestones as they entered the cemetery. She had insisted that this would be a good way to get closure for him, but he felt like it was just a horrible way to bring back everything that had happened and a death of one of the most important people in his life that he still blamed himself for and probably always would.

He did not want to be doing this.

“It’s a painful idea.” Charlie corrected softly, glancing at him as she slowly followed the narrow road, giving him a little more time before they reached their destination. “But I still feel like it’s necessary for you to actually say goodbye, to…let go of some things.”

Sir, let go of him. You’ve got to let him go, sir. He couldn’t hear the words over his own wails and insistence that Goose respond, “Talk to me, Goose!” The words were tear-filled, impossible to make out by anyone but himself and even he had no idea what he was actually saying. The water lapped around and over them, making them bob up and down, but he didn’t feel any of it. The cold a bone deep terror, guilt, disbelief and shock more chilling than any physical element could even come close to.

“I’m fine.” He didn’t look at her and he knew that she hated that. She had told him before that she didn’t like when she couldn’t see his eyes because they were the only thing that let her see past the cocky, overconfident, always completely strong exterior. He could claim what he wanted, but she could see when he was lying. As he did to anyone who asked.

He didn’t have to see her expression to know the look she was giving him. “Are you?” Her tone said she knew he wasn’t, but also that she figured he would never tell even her that. She was right. He hadn’t had to tell her he felt at fault for Goose’s death. It was his responsibility, no matter what anyone else said, no matter that he had been cleared of any wrong doing during the investigation.

“You still think it’s your fault and you need to get over that.” She didn’t say it harshly, but like she fully believed it. It wasn’t the first time he had heard that either. “You did what you could. You all know the risks when you go up there. You didn’t kill him.” She paused and then said more distinctly. “It was an accident.”

Eject! Eject! Watch the canopy! The crack as Goose hit the canopy was deafening even above the chaos that surrounded them in a flat spin heading toward the ocean and certain death. The terror coursing through his veins wasn’t caused by the uncontrollable spin itself, or the rapidly approaching water. It wasn’t even caused by the knowledge that he could die here and now. It was the fact that Goose could face that fate. Certain death. Goose was dead before he hit the water. No matter how much Maverick wanted to believe otherwise, to hope that he hadn’t heard what he did, that Goose had indeed ‘watched the canopy,’ given it time to eject before launching his own.

“I know.” His own tone was still as flat as his expression behind the glasses. He had, indeed, gone through the whole investigation process and been cleared of wrongdoing, but that didn’t change what had happened. He had flown them into Ice’s backlash and, though not on purpose – never that – caused Goose’s death. Goose was his RIO, his responsibility, and he had failed him in the worst way. He had failed Goose’s family, those he considered his own family.

God, he loved flying with you, Maverick.

He had ripped Carole’s husband away, Bradley’s father. He had taken away one of the best people he had ever met from those who loved and needed him most. He had failed to return him safely as he had often promised he would do. He had broken that promise to her, despite both of them knowing it was always a possibility. Because it was a possibility for others, not for them.

“We’re here.” He hadn’t even noticed that the car had stopped until she spoke again and then he felt the tension in his neck and shoulders become painful because he didn’t not want to be here. He did not want to be doing this.

Yet he found himself opening the door and pushing himself out of the vehicle anyway, his gaze on the gravestone only a few steps away. It was obviously new as it hadn’t been very long since the loss had occurred. Though it felt like forever. He couldn’t immediately make himself approach, swallowing hard and lifting his chin.

Charlie didn’t approach, immediately. Having climbed out of the car herself, she waited by the front for what Maverick wanted to do and some part of him appreciated that. She had pushed him to come here, but she wasn’t going to rush him or dictate what this ‘closure’ she insisted on would consist of.

Taking a deep breath, he approached the stone alone, hand coming up to finally remove the glasses covering his eyes. He squinted slightly in the sudden sunlight and against the sudden lump in his throat. His shoulders hunched slightly and he traced the words on the stone with his eyes, hands moving to jam into his jacket pocket.

Nick Bradshaw.

Goose.

His rank, branch of service, dates of birth and death and awards followed the name and Maverick studied the words for a long moment. Very professional, very honorable, very…sterile. It didn’t show Goose’s humor, his intelligence, the caring side that he didn’t show everyone, but couldn’t quite hide either. It didn’t show the husband, the father, the brother from another mother. It didn’t show the life beyond the sky, beyond the razor’s edge.

“I-“ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, trying again. “I’m sorry, Goose.” Simple and not so simple at all. There was so very much to apologize for and yet Goose would know. He always knew the things that Maverick either couldn’t or wouldn’t say. Simple was a cover and Goose could see under that. “I…” He shrugged because he didn’t have the words, so he just repeated them. “I’m sorry.”

He fell quiet for what wasn’t long, but seemed like forever before pulling an object that looked almost like a coin out of his pocket.

He had dropped his flight suit, watching as Charlie picked it up and something fell out of the pocket. She picked it up and held it out toward him with a questioning look in her eyes. What’s this? Lucky charm. What do you take me for? It’s a Navy Cross. Just good luck. Where’d you get it? Pawn shop.

Twirling the object in his hand, he stepped toward the headstone, placing it on the top, hand resting on top of the medal. “You deserve this as much as anyone. Not for luck, but for honor. For being one of the best people I’ve ever met. For bravery and recklessness and…encouragement where there probably shouldn’t have been any. For enabling but also being just as crazy. For being family and friend and wingman.”

The defense department regrets to inform you that your sons are dead because they were stupid.

He had quit, but he had returned to graduate and then to deploy on a mission immediately after. He had almost crumbled then but had managed to succeed. He could continue to do so, had to do so because what else was he if not a pilot, an aviator? Because if Goose were here, he would be telling him how stupid he was to quit in the first place because it wasn’t just what he did, it was who he was.

Come on, Mav. Do some of that pilot shit!

He lifted his hand from the medal and sighed, but somehow there was a small release of some of the tension he had been feeling. He didn’t feel better, but he didn’t necessarily feel worse. “I have to go now. It’s time to buzz the tower.”

#top gun #pete maverick mitchell #maverick #charlie blackwood #fanfic #visiting goose's grave #nick goose bradshaw #goose

Welcome to Hawkins

Sighing, Lorraine dropped the newspaper on the table in front of her. She had been following the media coverage from the time before it was a trial until now. It was hard not to when you were so involved in said case and you were the ones backing up the claim that shocked the nation.

The Devil Made Me Do It. It was the first time the Devil had been ‘put on trial.’ It was the first time any of their cases had gone to court and the defense was clearly something the world wasn’t ready for.

There were some nasty things in some of the articles, not only about Arne himself, but about those involved. There usually were, however, and she tried to just brush them off. People often lashed out at what they didn’t understand…or believe. And if they hadn’t experienced it themselves, there was more of a chance they wouldn’t believe it. That was how it was.

It didn’t make it sting any less, however.

“Are you still reading those?” The voice made her smile before she even turned to see the person it belonged to. He almost always had the effect on her. Even when he wasn’t smiling, like now. “You know they only upset you.” Ed shook his head and glanced down at the paper on the table. “I guess I don’t need to ask if this was a good or bad one.”

Lorraine shrugged. “I guess it’s not too horrible.” She replied. “Some of the others were worse.” She held up a hand before he spoke again. “I know. Stop reading them. But that’s easier said than done, you know.” She arched an eyebrow. “And don’t think I don’t see you doing the same thing. Looking to see what’s said about us and our cases. You know in case it might be positive this time.”

“Sometimes it is.”

“Sometimes it is.” She echoed the words. “Those are good times.” She sighed a little, her earlier attempt at mirth fading entirely. “I just wish…”

Ed moved to stand behind her, hands going to her shoulders and massaging lightly. “I know. But at least we’ve got people thinking this time. Some will believe us, believe Arne, some won’t. But the possibility is out there for the world to contemplate.”

“The possibility is always out there.”

“I suppose –“

---

Hawkins, Indiana threw her off slightly before they even crossed the city lines. It was a small midwestern town in Roane County, just outside of Indianapolis, but that was the last thing that felt ‘normal’ about it. After what had come to be known as the ‘The Devil Made Me Do It’ case, they had gone on to continue their investigations. The Smurl family in West Pittston, Pennsylvania, the Snedeker House in Southington, Connecticut. Things had gone on as usual for a while. Or as usual as such cases could really be.

And now, here they were, on their way to basically investigate an entire town. Or something.

They had actually been asked to speak at the high school, which wasn’t unusual. They had done lectures on the paranormal at many schools before this, though it was usually universities, not high schools. But there had been a lot of weird things in this town as well and that was something that seemed to draw them, to draw her. This town in particular. These…events in particular, though she didn’t know a lot about them. The news barely made it out of such a small town. Which meant there was much more to it than was being revealed.

---

GHOST HUNTERS GIVE LECTURE HERE

Ed and Lorraine Warren

This Monroe couple – he’s a demonologist, she’s a clairvoyant – are national renowned ghost-busters.

---

The notice on the bulletin board screamed out their intentions on the campus of Hawkins High School and Lorraine shook her head slightly. The smaller headlines underneath – taken from various newspaper articles written about them - almost making her roll her eyes, but she somehow refrained, keeping her dignity in check. They were highlights from newspapers and some were not exactly what she would have written herself, others weren’t so bad.

They give ghosts, evil spirits the boo(t).

This one made her snort and shake her head again and Ed glanced at her curiously. Shrugging, she gestured to the line that had made her react. “I could say that one’s creative, but it’s almost like one of your jokes.” She tried not to grin, but her lips twitched upward despite her best efforts.

Ed stared at her for a moment and then made a dramatically fake offended sound, placing a hand over his heart. “Come now. My jokes are way better than that. Give me some credit.”

“I did. I said this was almost like yours.” She allowed the smile to appear. “But this one is a little better, I think.” She blew him a kiss and then turned to lead the way into the gym so that they could start to set up. She didn’t have to look back at him to know that he was probably briefly surprised but then amused by her parting shot and was likely shaking his head, but smiling, as he followed her inside.

---

They breezed through the lecture as they always did, serious and informative, whether people believed or not. They seemed to at least hold people’s attention, some more interested than others, some more believing than others. That was a win in Lorraine’s book. People might not believe everything they heard and saw; they may not do what was recommended – or may do what was not – but they would at least think about it. Maybe remember what they had been shown here tonight.

Opinions seemed to split as they always did, the murmuring of the crowd as it dispersed leaning one way or the other, intrigue, skepticism, a few things in between. People who wanted to believe but weren’t sure. People who were never going to believe until they had ‘solid proof.’ The myriads of opinions made Lorraine shake her head. But she understood as well. It was hard to believe the unbelievable if you had no experience with it. But something told her that people here did have more experience than others. At least some of the people.

The younger people to be precise. There were a few who had hung around after the lecture, but none had worked up the courage, or maybe just the real desire, to approach them with any questions they might have. But one girl stood off to the side. She wasn’t necessarily watching them, but she also wasn’t not watching them. It looked like she might be waiting for someone, but Lorraine couldn’t be sure about that.

Leaving Ed to pack up the few things they had used for their slide show and such, she approached the girl slowly but in a friendly manner that just came naturally to her. Something about her seemed to draw her in a different but similar way that the town had. Though the town also repulsed her. It was a confusing feeling to both want and not want to know what was happening here. Maybe this girl knew something or wanted to know something.

“Hello, I’m Lorraine.” She smiled. “But you obviously knew that since we introduced ourselves and our names are plastered all over the bulletins.” Her smile shifted into something akin to a self-deprecating smirk. “I’d like to say you looked more interested in what we had to say than other people, but half of the time it looked like you weren’t paying attention.” She held up a hand. “Not that I blame you. We can go on sometimes.”

“Why I really approached you was to ask if maybe you’d…show me around a little.” She knew it likely sounded odd that she would approach a teenager for a tour, but she had found that younger people tended to see more than adults and they tended to know about and be drawn to the more interesting places and things. “You can say no, of course.” She quickly gave the out because it was weird and not all kids were comfortable with any adult, let alone a strange one, walking around town with them.

But something about this girl made her ask, made her hope that she would say yes because something was going on here. She just wasn’t sure what it was or what this girl had to do with it. “I just have a little time and no one else really hung back to ask.”

#fanfic #the conjuring/stranger things #lorraine warren #ed warren #max mayfield #welcome to hawkins #rp starter

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

The evening had been a smashing success and six-year-old Bradley’s belief in Santa Claus was now cemented for likely a few years to come. How could one not believe when Santa himself had come to his home to deliver presents and talk with him about only things Santa could possibly know? The boy had gone to bed with a huge smile, a childish belief and the magic of Christmas shining in his eyes.

There was another shine in Carole’s eyes as she returned from putting her son to bed to see the hat and fluffy white beard removed to reveal the familiar dark hair and eyes. He knew what she was seeing. Eyes that had looked so merry when pumping her son up with the joy of Christmas but were now shadowed with something else entirely.

“He’s so happy.” She murmured, stepping further into the room and offering him a glass of something distinctly stronger than the milk and cookies that had been offered earlier that evening. “Thank you, Pete.”

He accepted the glass with a smile that he always seemed to be able to conjure for others, even when he wasn’t feeling the cheerfulness behind it. “Good. Mission accomplished.” He took a drink and studied her for a long moment before his gaze shifted to the Christmas tree set up in the corner. It wasn’t as large or elaborate as that first one he had installed the year of Goose’s death, but it was sill impressive.

He could see her hesitating with whatever she was thinking of saying and he arched an eyebrow. “What?” He never wanted her to think she couldn’t say anything to or around him and she could ask him anything, even if he tried to avoid some of them at times.

“How –“ She sighed and looked up to meet his eyes. “I thought you were in Iraq. How are you here?” Though hesitant, no part of him thought she wasn’t happy he was there, grateful to see him. She always was. It was why he continued to come around for her, for Bradley, for Goose who couldn’t do it himself.

“It’s a Christmas miracle!” He replied, downing the rest of the drink, attempting to pull out the grin that defined his personality at most times. Happy go lucky, impulsive, sarcastic, so sure of himself and everything else.

Carole couldn’t help but smile in return, but it soon faded into seriousness once more. “It is. But that doesn’t answer my question.” Which was why she had asked. She hadn’t expected to see him this year. Not with everything going on overseas.

“I was…will be. This is a one-day thing. I’m shipping out tomorrow.” His own smile faded. “Things are heating up over there.” Operation Desert Shield was ramping up to another operation entirely, but he couldn’t say more than he had so he shook his head. “But, that’s not what this is about. How could I not be here?”

Carole swallowed hard, but didn’t ask more questions, though she clearly wanted to. “You’ve been here doing this every year since Nick…” She shook her head. “One year wouldn’t have been the end of the world.” But she – and Bradley – would have been disappointed and worried and all the things he never wanted them to feel.

There was a reason he hadn’t settled and started his own family aside from the fact that that lifestyle didn’t match with his own: he didn’t want to leave people behind to suffer the way that they had when they lost Goose. It didn’t occur to him that they were his family and that suffering wouldn’t be less if it were him to not return.

“Exactly. I’ve been doing it every year. And every year could be –“ He stopped himself because he had almost said ‘every year could be the last,’ but he didn’t want to say the words out loud.

They hung between them anyway because they both knew that every time he went on a mission, every time he went up in the air, there was always the chance he wasn’t going to come back.

“Well, I’ve been doing it every year. How could I crush Bradley’s belief by not continuing to do so?” The smile was slightly strained but still genuine because he wanted to lighten the mood, but it was so difficult to do so when neither were really feeling it now.

Carole studied him in silence for a long moment and then she reached up to grasp his face, bringing her mouth to his in a kiss. Though it was one full of love, it was not a romantic love. The three of them – Carole, himself and Goose - had considered such a thing once upon a time on a drunken night where they thought maybe things between them all could do with some progressing. They had immediately decided that was not what was meant to be but the relationship had remained somewhere just beyond family, but short of romantic where he was concerned.

When she withdrew, there were tears in her eyes again. “Thank you for making sure the Christmas miracle lives on.”

#fanfic #drabble #top gun #pete 'maverick' mitchell #carole bradshaw #i saw mommy kissing santa claus

What Were You Thinking? (AU)

I need to see you.

Not a good time.

I wasn’t asking.

The text exchange was identical to one they had shared before the mission that had landed him in the hospital. Again. Though it could have been worse and Maverick sometimes felt like he was more used to hospital beds than his own and had accepted that he was going to be a frequent flier there. He hadn’t expected to come back at all, so he considered an extended hospital stay a plus. Clearly Ice did not feel the same way.

The other man now stood at the side of his bed and, though his arms weren’t crossed, his unhappiness was quite clear in the rest of his body language and the expression on his face. It wasn’t an unfamiliar one, though it was one that impressed Maverick every time he saw it. It was amazing how someone could look pissed, guilty, worried, and exasperated while somehow not seemingly overly surprised all at once.

“Um, have a seat, Admiral.” Maverick gestured to a chair just off to the side where Ice stood, half expecting him to refuse just because he could. He was pleasantly surprised when the other man stepped over and sat down, though the tension and his expression didn’t really change as he gestured to the phone on the stand next to Maverick’s bed.

The return of his throat cancer made it hard to speak, but that certainly didn’t mean that Ice couldn’t still get his point across and as soon as Maverick picked up his phone, they came through in alarmingly loud clarity.

<b>WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING ALLOWING YOURSELF TO BE SHOT DOWN?! FURTHER ENDANGERING ANOTHER PILOT RATHER THAN BACKING HIM UP? STROLLING THROUGH ENEMY TERRITORY OUT IN THE OPEN TO STEAL YET ANOTHER PLANE THAT THERE WAS NO GUARANTEE WOULD EVEN FLY?! MAKING YOURSELF AND SOMEONE ELSE A TARGET YET AGAIN?!

Blinking, Maverick lifted his gaze from his phone to Ice’s angry face, gaze unwaveringly fixed on him as the other man waited for some kind of answer. Of course, he knew that Maverick being shot down wasn’t the accident it could have appeared. It was a distraction so that the Daggers would make it home. Of course, Ice would know that because he knew Maverick. The answer he was given likely wasn’t the one he was wanting, but just as likely wasn’t entirely unexpected. “In my defense, I didn’t expect Bradley to come back for me.” He hadn’t expected there to be anything to come back to.

“And you’re the ‘guardian angel’ who made the call that landed me this assignment anyway. And convinced me to keep going because it was what needed to be done. What I needed to do. You know me. You know how I operate. How I don’t think. Did you really expect anything less?”

He watched Ice barely contain a wince at the first because it surely came across as blame as he was the one who had pulled Maverick back to Top Gun to teach the young pilots enough to get them through an impossible mission. Then incredulity creeped in as the other man stared at him for a long moment.

“Pete…” The one word came out hoarse and soft, something that shouldn’t have been spoken at all as speaking at all brought a pain that Maverick hated to see. He almost protested, told Ice not to talk.

Instead, he whipped out that trademarked shit-eating grin before Ice could speak or type anything else. “But! We made it back.” He paused for effect, grin only widening slightly. “So, Ice. Who’s the better pilot? You or me?”

#pete 'maverick' mitchell #tom 'iceman' kazansky #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #post mission Target Strike #AU Fanfic

An Old Friend

His return to Top Gun hadn’t exactly been willing or even optional. It was a last-ditch attempt to not put him out to pasture and end more than just his career and, though he still insisted he wasn’t a teacher – those couple months just after graduation really didn’t count – he had to appreciate the effort his old friend still put in for him. He really didn’t deserve it.

The mission he had been called back here for was one that was nearly impossible. Not that he hadn’t done the impossible before, but that was besides the point. He was absolutely prepared to rid that razor’s edge one more time, no matter the mission.

“You misunderstand, Captain. We don’t want you to fly this mission. We want you to teach it.”

The words had stunned him for a moment because, as he had said before, he wasn’t a teacher and part of him was amazed that anyone would want him to do so. Especially considering his history and the reason he was there, on the ground, to begin with.

The fact that he was there to teach the best of the best – graduates of Top Gun – was just the tip of the iceberg, though. Not only was he to teach this younger generation how to fly this impossible mission, but he had three weeks to do it. Three weeks to make sure they knew the ins and outs of what was required to successfully complete this task…and to come back home.

These pilots were highly skilled but very individualistic and he had to teach them to work as a cohesive team in something with incredibly high stakes flying at supersonic speeds and low altitudes. All to destroy an unsanctioned uranium plant.

Though apparently collateral damage was something not everyone was as worried about as he was. The mission was of utmost importance and if those flying it didn’t come home…well, sometimes that happened and you had to accept those consequences because the pilots all knew it was a possibility.

The Defense Department regrets to inform you that your sons are dead because they were stupid.

It was now his job to make sure these younger pilots weren’t stupid enough to lose their lives. But also, to teach them how to do something so monumentally stupid that only he would think it was possible. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around how he was supposed to do that.

Especially when one of those pilots was a blast from the past and a kick in the ass at the same time. He couldn’t blame the kid for hating his guts, even though he had hoped that by now he would understand why he had done what he had done. Of course, it was hard to understand when it was never explained and never really would be. Maverick couldn’t do that to the kid.

He would continue to accept the cold shoulder and the dislike from Rooster, but he wouldn’t allow that to be the thing that killed the other pilot. If he did end up on the elite team chosen for this mission, then he needed to be able to let this go enough to fully focus.

Maverick wasn’t sure that was going to be a thing with how Rooster had reacted to his mere presence and his attempts at just talking to him thus far.

And Rooster wasn’t the only blast from the past that he had encountered upon his return to Miramar and Top Gun. He knew that with the past he had, it was likely that he would run into…people he knew. Especially when that person hadn’t moved away from where that past had occurred. And he knew the bar, he knew…and still he had stopped in and Penny had assumed that he wanted to pick up where they left off. Or, to start over, or something as they hadn’t exactly parted on good terms. He wasn’t sure what he wanted with everything already on his mind.

Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!

It was like a repeat of his own time there, watching Rooster at the piano, his friends singing along. He hadn’t even been aware the boy knew that song as he had been very young when Maverick, Goose, Carole and Charlie had all performed it together. To see his lost best friend’s son in the same exact position thirty-six years later had been worse than a kick in the ass, it had been a punch to the heart.

Everything was already so complicated and in the way that he hated. He wasn’t the best at dealing with emotions even now and there were a lot of those involved in pretty much everything so far.

Standing near the flight board and discussing recent events with Phoenix as they went over the initial tests that showed him – and his students – what they were capable of. And what they weren’t. Even the best of the best had to learn that they still had things to learn. Push ups were over and Phoenix had approached on her own for tips, unhappy with her ‘death’ in the sky the day before.

He was speaking with his hands as he always did, but Phoenix was following along. She wasn’t necessarily happy with what she was hearing, but she was taking it better than he had expected. She was good. But they had to find out if she was good enough. If they all were.

“Mitchell.” The voice froze his hands and his own words in his throat with its familiarity and he took a moment to process just who was speaking, to make himself believe that yet another blast from the past was now standing behind him.

He dropped those hands, fully aware that every eye around them was now on her. And on him. Phoenix looked curious and somehow knowing at the same time, a small smile lifting her lips only slightly as she watched.

“Miss Blackwood.” The formality tasted strange on his tongue, but he said it anyway. Only fairly certain that he was still correct in the address and she hadn’t run off and married someone in the years they had been apart. “My schedule is always impossible, but I think I can squeeze you in there somewhere.”

There were snickers off to one side and he rolled his eyes before turning slightly in the direction of that laughter. “Charlotte Blackwood, this is Phoenix.” He introduced the women first and then arched an eyebrow at the men standing nearby. Of course, they had been listening unabashedly to his requested review of Phoenix’s performance during the previous simulation.

“And this is Payback, Fanboy, Rooster and Bob.” He added, sounding more amused than annoyed. “Everyone, Charlotte Blackwood.”

Before the boys could make the comments they were obviously thinking, Phoenix stepped in. “Nice to meet you.” She then nodded at Maverick. “Thank you for your insight, Sir. We’ll let you catch up.” She practically dragged the others away, leaving Maverick and Charlie as alone as possible in such an open and public place.

Shaking his head, Maverick returned his full attention to Charlie, quiet for a long moment as he took her in. She was older, yes, but she was also an almost comforting familiar even after all these years. She was beautiful. They had been on and off again for years before their final split, but it was still surprisingly good to see her. “Well…it’s been a long time. Should I ask what you’re doing here?”

#top gun #top gun maverick #pete 'maverick' mitchell #charlotte 'charlie' blackwood #an old friend #roleplay reply

Grounded in the Danger Zone

Naval Air Station Miramar was located in San Diego, California. A United States Marine Corps installation that was home to the 3rd Marine Aircraft Wing, the aviation element of the I Marine Expeditionary Force. Named Mitscher Field since 1855, after Admiral M. A. Mitscher, who was the commander of Task Force 58 during World War II, the station was the location of Pacific Fleet fighter and Airborne Early Warning and Control aircraft such as the F-4 Phantom II, F014 Tomcat and the E-2 Hawkeye and was best known as the location of the United States Fighter Weapons School and its Top Gun training program.

In 1947, the Marines moved MCAS El Toro from Orange County, California to Miramar, redesignating it as Naval Auxiliary Air station Miramar. It became Naval Air Station Miramar on March 1st, 1952 and in the /50’s it was the Navy Master Jet Station. The eastern half, former Camp Elliot, was used by the Air Force for Project Orion and later by NASA where it was the site of several launches.

The place really came to life during the Vietnam War when the Navy needed a school to train pilots in dog-fighting and in fleet air defense. The United States Navy Fighter Weapons School was established in 1969. In 1972, Miramar added the F014 Tomcat and fighter squadron VF-124, a former FRS tasked with training new Tomcat crews.

The United States Navy Fighter Weapons School, known as Top Gun, was located in what became known as Fightertown, USA. When first established the school received little funding and resources and its staff consisted of eight F-4 Phantom II instructors and one intelligence officer hand-picked by the school’s first officer-in-charge, Lieutenant commander Dan Pederson. The syllabus was built from scratch by aviators Darrell Gary, Mel Holmes, Jim Laing, John Nash, Jim Ruliffson, Jerry Sawatzsky, J. C. Smith, Steve Smith and Wayne Hildebrand, borrowing aircraft from its parent unit and other Miramar-based units. The school’s first headquarters was in a stolen modular trailer.

The school managed to establish itself as a center of excellence in fighter doctrine, tactics and training and was soon known for training the ‘best of the best.’

Gaining acceptance into the school was selective, difficult and required many previous accomplishments. The baseline was to be a commissioned officer in the U.S. Navy or Marine Corps, complete flight training and earning your naval aviator or flight officer wings and then being assigned to a fighter/attack fleet squadron. Most candidates arrived at the school after multiple deployments and several hundred carrier/operational flight hours in a tactical fighter squadron. They were expected to display tactical proficiency, carrier quals and mission leadership. Selection considered flying skills, syllabus knowledge, tactical acumen, debriefing/teaching ability and maturity.

This last had some wondering how Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell had made it in at all, being known as a dangerous and reckless flyer and overall person. Someone who talked back and thwarted orders whenever he felt the need to do so yet somehow managed to hold his position rather than being grounded permanently. The legend he carried already held both positive and negative connotations and he loved it that way.

Top Gun was for the best of the best…and he wanted to be the best of those.

But that didn’t mean that flying was all he thought about, despite that being exactly what it seemed. He was legendary in other ways, at least in his own head and his own words and no one had been able to prove otherwise, despite the jabs and his thus far unsuccessful – at least mostly – attempts to woo one Charlie Blackwood, civilian contractor, Top Gun instructor and someone out of his reach, according to all challenges. And he did love a challenge.

He as thinking about that challenge when he found himself in an elevator with someone else who was becoming the subject of some of the scuttlebutt around the base. Apparently, her name was Cara and she was another civilian contractor, this one for aircraft maintenance logistics. Something that could have kept her out of everyone’s way and somehow did, though she wasn’t necessarily unnoticed. Of course, with her looks, there was no way she would ever be completely in the shadows around here.

But it was also for small acts of kindness that she was being recognized. Something that was appreciated more than it was talked about, at least openly. Simple things were often not so simple at all.

Maverick himself had crossed paths with her several times, though they had never really spoken beyond a nod or polite greeting in passing. She entered his radar several times, but she made no attempts to do more than that, or even that, if truth be told. She wasn’t flirting or chasing anyone and maybe that was something that made her more noticeable than the rest.

As the elevator doors closed, they stood in not quite awkward silence before he smiled, one hand reaching up to remove the ever-present sunglasses that weren’t really needed inside, but were often worn there anyway. “Cara, right?” He met her eyes easily, his own smile always somewhat cocky and flirtatious in itself, even when he wasn’t actively trying to be either. “I’m Maverick.” He didn’t give his real name, figuring it probably wasn’t necessary and since most of the guys went by a call sign anyway, it was the easiest way for introductions to go. “I’ve heard some things about you, but haven’t had the pleasure of actually being in your presence.”

#maverick #pete 'maverick' mitchell #top gun #roleplay reply #grounded in the danger zone

Off Record

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.

#pete 'maverick' mitchell #pete mitchell #maverick #top gun #tom 'iceman' kazansky #iceman #off record #roleplay reply #fanfic

Merry Christmas, Goose Family

“I have a tree, Pete.” Though Carole’s smirk showed her clear amusement, there was a sadness, a struggle constantly just beneath the surface. It was the first big holiday since Goose’s death and the loss hung heavy over the duo who stood in the Bradshaw living room. “And you’re never going to get that thing in here. It’s huge.”

Maverick grinned a little, both at the challenge and the wording. “Not the first time I’ve faced such a challenge!” He glanced around the room, gaze landing on the box that held the fake plastic Christmas tree that had been in use for the last couple years. “And that is not a tree. I know for a fact that Goose wanted to do something different this year and so…” He gestured to the real tree waiting outside. “Different.”

He actually knew for a fact that this particular tree was to be a surprise for Carole and Bradley. It had already been purchased pending retrieval upon the arrival of the holiday season. He had helped Goose pick it out. He also knew that he was going to struggle more than his pride would allow with getting the humongous thing into the house and the corner that had been emptied just that afternoon. That was why he had come prepared.

“Mama Goose!” Though Maverick had loathed admitting he needed help and had tried to frame it as doing something for Goose, for Goose’s family. While the man had been Maverick’s RIO, best friend and brother from another mother, he was basically liked by most people. So, it hadn’t really been hard to recruit Slider, Ice and even Viper, though the trio hadn’t let the opportunity to rub his face in the fact that not only did he need help with something, but that he would undoubtedly screw it up without them and Slider was grinning as he led the way through the door, the greeting ringing with a grin. “Help has arrived!”

The others weren’t as close to Carole as Maverick had become, but they had met her a few times when Goose had brought her around. She fit in rather well with their raucousness and a military widow was to be respected and helped whenever possible, no matter who she was.

“Oh, good!” Carole feigned great relief as she moved to greet the three men, overcoming her surprise quickly as she saw that each brought not only the height and muscle that was going to be needed to set up the monster tree but each also carried a box of decorations, a small wrapped box and, of course, the required beverages.

There weren’t really hugs, but each greeting was equally friendly, Slider’s nickname and grin followed by a more subdued, but not quite as icy as the name implied smile and greeting from Iceman and then the unexpected brief hug from Viper as he offered her a bottle of wine.

Getting the tree inside was a practice in strategy, but between the four of them, they managed it with minimal damage – to the house and themselves – and they soon had it set up in the corner where it barely fit, the top nearly brushing the ceiling, leaving just enough room for the star. Which was fine as the rest of the lights and decorations were going to be impressive on their own.

“Now comes the fun part.” Maverick grinned, downing the rest of the beer bottle in his hand as he knelt to open one of the boxes. “Arguing over where the decorations go.” His grin faltered a little, but he turned his face down toward the box so that no one could see that. He didn’t have much experience with tree decorating and just assumed this was what came next and that families did such arguing.

He wasn’t far off as each of them had an opinion on where things should go. Slider was almost haphazard, randomly placing them wherever he felt like. Maverick cluelessly put things wherever there weren’t things already, mostly just filling in holes, though he had no idea if that was how this was supposed to work or not. Ice was the most meticulous, going behind the other two to organize things ‘just right.’ Viper stood off to one side, supervising while Carole handed things to the boys, thoroughly enjoying this ‘family’ time and the effort each were putting in.

“Wow!” The tiny voice came from the doorway and the group of adults all turned to see Carole’s son standing in the doorway, bedhead showing he had just woken up from a nap, eyes wide and sparkling as he took in the tree and the men circling it. He didn’t know all of them well, but he had met them. At two years old, he took things in stride and just assumed they were friends.

Maverick dropped the ornament in his hand back into a box and moved toward the boy. “Baby Goose!” He scooped Bradley up into his arms and turned back toward the tree and the group with a flourish. “You, my boy, are just in time!”

“I am?”

“Yep.” He joined the others, smile wide as the three men greeted the boy and Carole leaned forward to ruffle his hair in her own motherly greeting. “You get to put on the most important thing. The star.”

Carole’s smile shifted slightly, pride, sadness, love and a myriad of emotions as she turned away to pick up the star from where it sat on the table. It wasn’t a plastic or glass store bought one that lit up, but a wooden one, painstakingly carved by the hands that she had loved so much…

“Your dad made this.” She said as she approached Maverick and Bradley, her fingers tracing the notches in the wood. “See? It has our names on it.” She showed it to Bradley and to Maverick at the same time, fingers now lingering over those names before she offered Maverick a smile and handed the star to her son.

Maverick swallowed hard and forced his own expression back into a smile as he turned toward the tree and hefted Bradley toward the top. “Up you go! Put it on there!” He watched as the boy ever so carefully placed the star at the top of the tree, making it shine in an entirely different way.

“Woop!” He cheered, after a moment to admire the finishing touch, as he lowered the boy into his arms once more. “Perfect!” Holding Bradley in his arms, he moved to pour him a cup of juice, grabbing another beer for himself, before he returned to the group. Glancing up at the star once more, he held up his bottle, clinking it with the others who did the same. “Merry Christmas Goose family.”

#fanfic #top gun #goose family #carole bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #pete 'maverick' mitchell #tom 'iceman' kazansky #ron 'slider' kerner #mike 'viper' metcalf #merry christmas

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