starkind
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By the time Maverick reached the tarmac, the plane was unloading. He spotted his target stepping off the last of the stairs, sporting his shiny new rank on his shoulders. Maverick jumped out of the cart, strode up to him, and saluted.
“Captain,” Maverick greeted, fighting a grin.
Ice did not fight his smile at all as he turned to face Maverick. He actively laughed even as he returned the salute—likely out of habit, at this point. He must get a good workout in for that right arm now that he served in a command role at his new base.
“Get over here,” Ice said, closing the gap between them and gathering Maverick into a tight hug. “What are you saluting me for?”
***
After months of testing, Maverick found himself in need of a good pilot to help show off his new jet. He knew just the man to call. He couldn't know that inviting Ice out to run a simulated dogfight against Top Gun students would change the course of their careers and their lives forever.
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25 days after a routine training exercise met a bird strike met an ejection gone slightly wrong. The concussion was ancient history, the ankle only hurt if he forgot to ice it, and the doctor had officially let him ditch the sling for his collarbone three days ago.
Almost four full weeks later. Mav was standing at his front door with his hands shoved into his pockets. The way he normally did. The way Ice had spent 25 days wishing he would.
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maverick has one TOPGUN session of peace before ice returns and sends him into a tailspin.
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Rebuilding a life is difficult; forming a relationship with the man who hunted him should be impossible. Kimble learns that he can do both--and, even harder, that he can find happiness again.
Three people turned at the sound of his approach, and Kimble recognized all three of them. Not Rosetti and Kelly, but rather, Deputy US Marshal Samuel Gerard and two of his assistant deputies, Poole and Newman.
"Dr. Kimble." There was a note of surprise in Gerard's voice. He took a step forward, hand extended. "How are you, doctor?"
"Deputy Gerard." Kimble accepted the other man's hand, finding it larger than his own and very powerful. He shook it firmly, hoping the strength of his own grip would conceal the slight tremor in his fingers. "I'm fine, thank you," he said with careful courtesy. The sight of Gerard, lean, tall, simply but perfectly appareled, with eyes as black as the far side of the moon, was quite unnerving. "Is that your handiwork in there?"