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"Despite your best efforts, you wont die."
That's the first thing that went through Maverick's head when he opened his eyes to find himself buried in snow and surrounded by smoke and bits of metal- the remnants of his plane.
He groaned at the irony and told Cain's voice to shut up as he sat up groggily. And that's when he heard it- the chopping of helicoptor blades. He forced himself to his feet as he saw the sleek black body just even with the treetops and tripped over his own gear, still attached to his suit. He fumbled with the clip, watching the helicoptor as it made its way around toward his crash site. As the nose began to swing around, the gear fell to the snow and he took off in the opposite direction, praying to whatever gaurdian angel Cain mentioned that it didn't spot him.
He dove behind a fallen tree and pressed himself down and out of sight against a rock and waited for them to come around and fire at him.
The chopper made one loop and then flew off in the other direction.
Maverick let out a breath in disbelief.
Then he swore at Cain outloud.
••••••••••••••
The moment the wheels hit the ground and the canopy popped open, Rooster cursed and threw his helmet at the ground from where he sat in the cockpit.
He shouldn't have listened to Phoenix. He should have gone back.
Now, on the boat, the adredaline was wearing off and the grief and guilt was coming down ten-fold.
Yeah, they'd succeeded. They had just done the impossible. Survived the missles. Escaped the dogfight.
But at the cost of the best pilot the Navy had ever seen.
And it was Rooster's fault.
He'd never be able to forget the feeling of utter terror as those missles closed in or the sickness he felt as Maverick passed back over the top of him and released his flares, taking out the first missle and using his own plane to block the second.
Rooster had screamed his name over and over, desperately asking if anyone had seen a parachute, if there was any hope of his survival.
The Navy didn't think so.
They called the Daggers home and Rooster resisted until Phoenix talked him down, told him to think about what Maverick would have wanted.
And now, sitting there in the safety of the carrier where Maverick should be, he thought about how Maverick would have said don't think, just do.
God, he wished he could go back.
•••••••••••••••
Maverick layed on the crest of a small hill near the naval base they'd just blown to bits, binocs up to his eyes. He'd survayed the entire area, took note of every variety of vehicles that would- could probably- fly. Really, he was just trying to build up the courage to actually try to steal one.
He'd done this before, technically- steal planes. But this.. if he was caught, he'd die.
It wasn't like he wouldn't die anyway. The F-14 in front of him was his one and only ticket out.
He was so screwed.
Finally he took a deep breath and snuck over the broken fence, striding toward the plane like he owned the damn place. People were hurrying left and right in an orderly fashion as the place burned around them so Maverick picked up his pace and quickly made his way into the shed.
••••••••••••••
"Rooster?"
It had taken him longer than he'd like to admit to come down from the cockpit. But now that he had, of course it was Hangman that found him first.
Rooster turned to face him, almost glare at him.
Hangman either didn't notice or didn't care- he walked right up to him and looked him in the eye. "Good job on the mission. And I'm sorry about Maverick."
Rooster snorted and turned to keep walking.
Hangman stopped him again by putting a hand on his shoulder and stepping around him to block his path. "What is it?"
Rooster frowned at him. "What?"
"What is it? You and Maverick. You seem to hate him, but over the radio.. you sounded desperate. I wasn't out there."
Rooster considered telling him off, pushing him away. He really did. But he was this close to breaking and he just wanted someone to understand. Even if it was Hangman.
"Maverick pulled my papers." Was the first thing that slipped out.
Hangman continued to just stand there, waiting.
Rooster licked his lips. "He.. he pulled my papers. Set me back four years in my career. And he.. he never told me why."
"Your dad died in the Navy, didn't he?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe he didn't want the same thing to happen to you."
Rooster shook his head. "Mav was all for me becoming a pilot. He pulled my papers and I got mad at him. Fifteen years or so."
"Fifteen years?"
"I didn't talk to him until i found out he was our instructor."
Hangman frowned. "There's more than that, isn't there?"
Rooster sighed. "He was the only family I had left. He was like my father, up until i got out of highschool. He practically raised me alongside my mom. And i got angry and let our relationship grow cold."
•••••••••••••••
There was only one lane that was even remotely clear enough to use and it was a short taxi way.
A very short taxi lane.
He brought the wings out and prepared to take off.
Probably.
•••••••••••••••
"We've got a bandit coming out to sea."
"Towards us?"
"Yes."
"Just one?"
"..yes sir. No. There's three!"
••••••••••••••••
Maverick had no way of really seeing these guys with no radar and no man in his back seat until he was riding his wing.
"Play it cool, Mav. Just wave and smile. Wave and smile. We're on the same team."
Maverick patted his helmet and gave him a thumbs down.
The man gave him some kind of hand signal he'd never seen. Maverick ignored the panic in his gut and repeated his own action. Technically, he'd done this before too, but last time the enemy was in their zone and last time he'd been a hell of a lot cockier.
Maverick so wanted to pull the finger.
The enemy pilot's wing man moved out behind him and Maverick sighed in exasperation.
"Can't ever be easy, can it?" He muttered to himself. "An F-14 against two Fifth generations."
God, he was so screwed.
-
The team was there, ready to recieve orders to defend the carrier if it came to that. Rooster and Hangman were among them and Rooster almost hoped they'd come and try. He'd send them to their graves. For Maverick.
Radio chatter said the three bandits were still flying in the direction of the carrier- until one completely disapeared and the other two flew below radar.
The navy switched to track them and followed their progress up until the first bandit shot down the second.
"What kind of plane is that?"
The bandit turned toward the sea again and headed in the direction of the boat.
"That.. looks like an F-14."
"I want two pilots to go intercept that Tomcat."
"Sir?"
"Maverick's always been good at stealing planes to take on joy-rides."
•••••••••••••
He wouldn't be able to take another dogfight. He was out of bullets, out of missles, and almost out of flares. Maverick's luck was running out and he knew it the moment he saw the plane riding even and straight at him.
He wasn't going to make it out, after all.
•••••••••••••••
Hangman had been the first to volenteer and Rooster stepped up right alongside him and fought tooth and nail to go after the F-14. Now the two were soaring toward the plane's location.
The sun glinted off two objects flying in the air and smoke gathered behind one as it released it's flares. As a desperate attempt, it seemed, the plane's nose tilted up into a steep climb and the enemy followed, slowly locking onto it. Rooster tried to lock onto the enemy but Hangman got it first and shot it down just as it released the missle.
Rooster almost laughed in releif.
•••••••••••••••••
Maverick pulled the F-14 up into a steep climb, the only thing he could think to do. He gained the altitude he needed and reached up to pull the eject.
And nothing happened.
Nothing happened.
When he'd exploded the Darkstar, he hadn't ejected.
When he'd taken the missle to save Bradley, he hadn't ejected.
It was so ironic that any crash he'd ever been in he'd never ejected, save for when Goose died.
And it was ironic that now, when he tried, it failed.
Maverick stared up at the open blue sky above him as his plane toned to signal the enemy lock.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Bradley."
The tone cut off suddenly and he blinked.
It was silent, save the rushing of wind against the wings and canopy of the F-14.
He looked back in time to see the enemy plane falling in a cloud of smoke and fire and he blinked again and let the nose of his plane slowly even out with the horizon.
On his other side, two Hornets were flying even with him.
•••••••••••••••
It was Maverick. The blue helmet with red and white stripes, the glinting white letters in an upside-down V. The look of absolute relief in his eyes. He was there, and alive, and flying an antique.
How the hell had he gotten his hands on an F-14?
Hangman tried to contact him through radio but got no response so they resorted to hand signals and escorted Maverick home.
"Maverick's confirmed. It's really him." Hangman reported.
"Affermative. No front landing wheel, damage to the hull. It'll be a rough landing."
As they approached, Hangman and Rooster landed but Maverick flew by, rattling the control room as he passed daringly close before sweeping down to land, just as one of his engines flickered and went out. It was indeed a rough landing.
•••••••••••••••
Rooster lept from the cockpit, Hangman hard on his heels, as Maverick's F-14 was doused to put out the flames.
People cheered as the canopy opened and Rooster fought his way through the crowd to get to where Maverick was climbing down from the cockpit. As soon as he turned around, Rooster flung his arms around him.
Maverick stood there in surprise for a moment before wrapping his own arms around Rooster.
"Damnit, Mav, you do that again and I'll come back for you and beat you're ass." Rooster said.
Maverick chuckled and Rooster tightened his arms around him.
"God, I thought I lost you."
The side of his neck felt suspiciously wet. Maverick brought one hand up to the back of Bradley's head and held it against his shoulder. "I'm here, kid. I'm here."