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Goose knew it was close. So fucking close. He saw his own reflection in the canopy as he shot past it. The plane rocked at the last possible moment, throwing him clear.
A cry, cut far too short, rises on the air and Goose wrangles his chute as it deploys, seeking any possible angle on Maverick. A short distance below Goose, a second parachute unfurls. He can't see his pilot yet. He can't see Mav. Desperation rises in his chest when the chute comes to rest on the water with no struggles from beneath to get on top of it.
Goose cuts his own off the second he lands in the water, swimming over to Maverick's and wrestling with the heavy material to drag the smaller man out of the water. "Mav! Maverick! Come on! Don't do this to me! Maverick!"
Mav lays on top of Goose, boneless and limp. The visor of his helmet is shattered. Blood trails down his cheek and neck from a wound Goose doesn't dare search for on the chance of a spinal injury.
"Mav!" Nick yells, ripping one of his gloves off with his teeth and feeling Mav's neck for a pulse. This, the bare minimum, is all he can do. "Come on! Come on, please, Maverick!"
By the time Goose feels anything under his touch, he's screaming, begging Mav to stay with him. The water tossing them around makes it so hard to tell, but the thump of Maverick's pulse persists. Goose sobs in relief, curling around Mav on top of their buoy and cradling his head to keep it above the water. Even geared up in his flight suit, the pilot feels so tiny and fragile in his grip.
"Stay with me, Mav," Goose croons, tears still streaming down his face. Mav isn't moving. He may be alive, but he's not moving at all. "Please."
Minutes tick by, and before long, Goose starts shivering. It's so damn cold. The taste of salt lingers on his lips with every panicked breath, and he shields Mav's face from the spray of seawater. The young pilot doesn't react when a sharp gust of wind tosses their buoy. Goose clings all the tighter, keeping his fingers on Pete's stubborn pulse. His gaze roams over what little of Mav he can see. Both his arms and his legs splay the proper directions, meaning no severe breaks there, but the blood creeping down his skin still worries Goose. What if Mav got brain damage? What if he really did break his spine?
What if he never gets to fly again?
Goose prays Maverick is okay, because the stubborn aviator would die if he couldn't have the wind at his back and the sky under his wings. It would crush him, heart, soul, and body. The spark in his eyes would fizzle out and leave behind a broken shell of Pete "Maverick" Mitchell that would never be the same.
A frustrated sob leaves Goose's mouth. He can't do a damn thing for Maverick except pray, and the more he thinks on it, the more his mind runs away with him.
The search and rescue helicopter arrives after an eternity. Goose shouts that Mav is alive at the diver, begging him to treat his pilot with the utmost care and caution while moving him. The diver pries Goose's hands away, telling him he has to let go. He can't. He has to stay with Maverick. He has to know Pete is okay.
"Please, just be careful with him," Goose pleads, watching the diver pull Mav through the water toward the chopper.
Mav hangs limply in the harness when the rescue unit hoists him up into the air and Goose clings to the buoy so hard his hands hurt. He closes his eyes, slowly losing the battle with the cold and endless sound of chopper blades. Water sprays him, sharp and freezing as a knife. Mav is probably cold, too.
Mav is probably cold.
Goose shudders, hardly reacting when something tugs on him in the water. All he can think of is Mav's pulse against his fingers, now absent. They took him away. Goose just wanted to know Mav would be okay and they took him away. He fights, splashing water around as a dark figure tries to pull him off the buoy. They can't leave! Mav will drown. He'll drown.
For a moment, Goose feels weightless, then too heavy, and then all he's aware of as wind and sound beat down on him relentlessly is the freezing cold. He shivers, cradling his bare hand with his gloved one in vain effort to warm it.
Mav must be cold.
No matter what Goose does, his thought swirl around the information. Thick seat straps cross over his chest, holding him in place so he can't go looking for his pilot. He's so small. Fuck. He'll drown out there-
No. The medical team reeled him up. Didn't they? Goose can't remember. He should've told them to be careful.
Goose blacks out. He knows he must have, because the next thing he knows, he's waking up in a hospital bed. He blinks open tired and scratchy eyes, feeling like someone stuffed his entire body with cotton. Aside from the fact that he can't parse out one thought from another, it's kinda nice. The ceiling above him is white, blurry until he blinks several times. He shifts, groaning at the ache of his shoulders and hips. It was not a pleasant ejection.
"Goose?"
He turns his head, finding Slider sitting at his bedside. What's Slider doing here? Where's-
"Where's Mav?"
Slider bows his head, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Mav is unconscious. The canopy clipped him on the way out. It dislocated his shoulder and broke two fingers, and we think his head must've jerked toward the frame during the impact. He's got some cuts and scrapes from his visor shattering, and a concussion. All survivable, by the looks of it, but...."
Goose swallows hard. "But what?"
"The docs. Because of the concussion, they don't know if he's going to wake up."
Throwing the sheet off him, Goose clambers off the bed. Air rushes through the paper-thin gown on him, cold and sharp. It makes little difference to Goose.
"Goose, you really shouldn't be up-"
"Don't give a shit. Take me to Mav."
Slider sighs. "Would you at least put some clothes on rather than running around with your ass out in that gown? Ice has been sitting with Mav for the last eight hours and it'll scare the shit out of him if you bust in there wearing the damn thing."
Goose pauses out of surprise. "Ice has been sitting with Mav?"
"He wouldn't leave. The minute they got him settled, he sat down beside the bed and wouldn't be moved for anything. Hasn't said a word."
Damn. "Gimme my clothes."
Slider hands over a fresh set and turns his back to give Goose some privacy. "I know it's not the best circumstance to say this under, but we're.... We're all really glad you're okay, Goose."
"I'm not even close to okay, Sli," Goose scoffs, slipping into his underwear, jeans, and Hawaiian t-shirt.
"But you're-"
"Don't!" Goose whirls. "Don't say that! Mav will wake up. He's the most stubborn little shit in the history of creation, and if he's not back in a jet at the end of the week, I'll shave my fucking mustache." Slider's expression flickers between pain and amusement, and suddenly, Goose can't help sighing. "I'm.... I'm sorry for snapping at you, man, but I'm really-.... I'm really not okay. With any of this."
Slider waves a hand. "I get it. None of us are, either."
"Us?"
The other RIO shrugs and offers Goose a supportive arm to lean on if he needs it. "Wolf and Hollywood both came around. Chipper and Sundown, too. I think seeing Mav so still freaked the guys out a little bit. Looks real small in the big hospital bed."
Goose doesn't need Slider's help, but he takes his arm anyway just for something to hang onto. In the water, Mav wasn't moving. Now, they're back on land and he's still not moving.
Slider leads him forward. "Anything you need before we get there?"
"Tell me what to expect."
"He doesn't look too bad, if that's what you mean. Right arm is in a sling, his fingers are splinted, and he's got a couple stitched cuts on his neck and face. Other than that, he's just.... Well, you know."
Too still.
Goose's chest tightens with every step closer to Mav's room. His breaths start shaking on the way out and his stomach churns in anxiety. Slider's support keeps his footsteps even no matter how much Goose wants to dash forward and see Mav for himself or turn right around and rush to the bathroom instead.
Slider stops in front of a room with its blinds closed and glances down at Goose. "Here."
Nick steels himself and turns the doorknob slowly. He spots Mav on the bed first, and then to the right of the bed, Ice. The older pilot sits hunched in the chair, elbows on his knees and fingers laced over the back of his neck. It surprises Goose. Never once at the academy or in all of their training did Ice ever look so affected.
Goose, for all he worries for Maverick, can't ignore that. "Hey, Ice."
Tom's head snaps up and relief bleeds into his expression. It's followed quickly by guilt and shame. "Goose, I-" He breaks off, eyes flicking to Maverick on the bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen-"
"I know, man," Nick answers, stepping closer and offering a hand to him.
Ice stands and pulls him into a hug instead. Goose goes with it because Ice probably needs all the reassurance he can get right now. His body trembles with barely-suppressed nerves. The flat spin probably scared him almost as much as Goose and Mav.
"You're a damn mess, Ice," Slider says. "Why don't you come with me to the cafeteria and eat something? I'm sure Goose can watch over Mav while we're-"
"No. I want to stay. This was-"
Goose gives him a tighter squeeze before letting go. "An accident, Ice. It wasn't your fault."
Tom grits his teeth and pushes his fingers through his hair, turning to face the bed. "I'm staying. At least, until his next of kin show up and kick me out or visiting hours end."
A small laugh puffs from Goose's mouth. "I ain't gonna kick you out if you want to stay."
Silence falls between them as Ice and Slider absorb the information.
"You're his next of kin?" Ice asks.
"Yeah. Me, Carole, and Bradley," Goose answers, sitting down on the edge of Mav's bed and reaching out to touch his face. "Have been for years. Everyone knows his old man is gone, and they all give him shit for what they think went down, but no one ever thinks about his ma. She died when he was ten. Went into the system and nobody wanted him even though he was quiet and well-behaved."
Ice blinks. "Excuse me?"
Goose chuckles. "Yeah, you wouldn't believe it seeing him now, but back then, he was.... He was really different, but who can blame a guy for being emotionally closed-off when everyone who knows his name wants to kick the shit out of him?"
Slider sits on the opposite edge of the bed, glancing at Goose. "You're serious?"
"Yeah," Goose murmurs. He strokes a hand over Mav's hair while avoiding the cut near his hairline. "Pretty serious. We kept in touch almost every day while I was in the academy. He had to take the long way around into the Navy because they wouldn't let him join up the same way. It pissed him off, but he powered right through. Soon as we hit flight school, we joined up as pilot and RIO, and I've been keeping people off his back ever since."
Ice settles back into his chair with a sigh. "No wonder he has no idea what I'm talking about when I get after him about teamwork."
A wry laugh leaves Goose's mouth. "Yeah."
"And...." Ice shakes his head. "After today, I.... I think maybe mine needs some work, too. If I'd just cleared the first time he asked, we wouldn't be here. I should've trusted him to take the shot."
"It wasn't about trust."
Ice looks up.
"Top Gun is a competition. What happened out there today wasn't about trust. It was about winning. If we'd been in a real dogfight? If it was life or death, would you have waited those twenty seconds, or would you have cleared?"
"Cleared."
Goose nods. "Exactly. We did what we were supposed to be doing today, because it's a competition about points, and something went wrong. That's all. Accidents happen, and we know the risks every time we go up there."
Ice rubs his face, looking more worn than ever. "What if he doesn't wake up?"
"He will."
"You can't know that."
"I do know that." At Ice's self-reproaching scoff, Goose leans over and smacks him on the head. "You listen to me, Ice. I know Mav better than anyone, and if he's stubborn enough to make it through such a rough ejection, he'll make it through this, too, even if it's only so he doesn't live out the rest of his days in a hospital."
Ice fixes his hair with a scowl, though his eyes hardly leave the unconscious pilot in the bed.
Goose sighs and smooths Mav's hair. "Oh, hey, I didn't realize until I mentioned it, but where are Carole and Bradley? They're still in town as far as I know."
Slider makes a noncommittal noise. "Commander Metcalf thought it would be better to wait to call until you woke up. It would only worry them more to see you both down for the count. Aside from a little bruising, you were fine, but they had to knock you out on the transport." He smiles a bit at Goose's startled expression. "You kept throwing punches at the diver and yelling at everybody, apparently."
"I don't remember doing that," Goose mutters.
"I wouldn't think so." Slider pats his shoulder. "You were pretty wound up at the time between the dehydration from drifting in salt water for thirty minutes and all the stress."
Goose remembers drifting. He remembers clinging to Maverick while blood drizzled down his skin, desperately hoping the insistent pumping of Maverick's heart wasn't just wishful thinking. A lump rises in his throat and he lifts himself from the bed. "I'm, uh.... I'm gonna go call Carole."
In truth, the first stop he makes is the bathroom.
He washes his mouth out after heaving up his breakfast and simply stares at himself in the mirror. Fuck. They both nearly died today.
"Shit," Goose groans, bracing his hands on the edge of the sink and bowing his head.
For all his faith that Maverick will wake up, fear that he won't lingers in Goose's mind. Slider sounded spooked by the idea. Ice looked outright traumatized by Mav's condition already. What are they supposed to do if he doesn't wake up? Carole and Bradley would be devastated. Goose himself.... He doesn't know what the hell he'd do.
Fly without Maverick?
The thought sends Nick back to the rim of the nearest toilet and he kneels there trembling for a long while. Flying without Mav would be undeniably awful. He would hate it so damn much. Goose's throat tightens and he struggles for his next breath as he dry heaves again. But... if worse comes to worst, Nick will fly. He'll fly again for Maverick.
Goose spits bile and flushes, giving himself a rough shake. "Can't. Can't think like that, Goose," he mutters to himself. "He's gonna be fine."
"Thought I might find you here, son."
Nick glances up at Commander Metcalf where he leans against the bathroom door. He can't find the energy to get up and stand at attention. He feels too dizzy. "Sorry, sir."
"No need. I just wanted to make sure you were really all right."
"Physically, yes, sir."
Viper nods. "I thought that might be the case. Jester and I talked, and you boys have the next few days off as leave to rest and recover. After that, well.... I suppose, that depends on Maverick, doesn't it?"
Goose nods, hitching a breath and forcing himself to his feet. He leans against the sink. Why does he feel so cold and weak all of a sudden? Nick shakes his head at himself and rinses out his mouth a second time. His stomach settles, though his shoulders remain tense with his CO looming behind him. Almost without his permission, his head tips forward to lean against the glass of the mirror.
"If he doesn't pull through, will you be able to ride?"
"I'll ride," Goose whispers, both in conviction and promise.
Viper steps closer and rests a hand on his shoulder. "What was that, son?"
Nick lifts his head and wipes at his face. He didn't even realize he was crying. "I said that I'll ride, sir. But for the record?" He casts a weary look over his shoulder. "You and I both know Mav is too stubborn to stay down in a fight."
The old pilot smiles, pats Goose on the back, and turns to leave. "Yeah. I know."
Viper's faith in Mav soothes Goose for reasons he doesn't quite understand but appreciates all the same. He washes his face, collecting himself before walking out of the bathroom. Two minutes pass while he tracks down the front desk of the hospital to call Carole. It takes far too much energy to charm the receptionist into letting him use the phone, but he doesn't have any quarters on him for a payphone right now.
"Hello?"
Goose nearly faints at the sound of Carole's voice. He didn't know how much he needed it until it was knocking the air from his lungs. It makes him raw and shaky. "Hey, honey," he breathes.
"Nick? Is that you? Honey, you don't sound so hot. Are you okay?"
"Um, not-.... Not really. Mav and I are, uh.... Well, we're in the hospital. There was an accident on our first hop this morning and we had to eject. I'm fine, but Mav, he-" Goose's breath hitches and he scrubs a hand over his face.
Carole waits, and Nick swears he can feel her anxiety through the phone line.
Goose swallows. "He's unconscious, and the doctors said.... They said there's a chance he might not wake up."
"Oh, honey. Gimme a minute to round up Bradley and we'll be down in twenty, okay?"
A part of Goose wants to tell her to wait, to talk to him for a little while, but the rest of him wants desperately to see Carole and Bradley for himself. He just wants to know the rest of his world isn't falling apart at the seams. "Okay," Nick croaks.
"Don't worry, Goose. Mav's a fighter and he'll pull through this in no time."
"I know. Thanks, honey. I'll see you soon."
Carole manages a small laugh, but it sounds strained. "Yes, you will. Love you."
"Love you, too. Bye."
The receptionist looks sympathetic when he hands the phone back to her and he settles down to wait in one of the shitty chairs. He would go back to Maverick's room, but both Slider and Ice are in there stewing now. They'll watch over Mav.
When Carole and Bradley arrive, the coil of anxiety unwinds from Goose's heart and he embraces both of them. He kisses his son's forehead with tender fervor. He allows himself a quiet moment in Carole's embrace, letting the tremors he's been fighting run through him for her to feel. Carole tugs him down to hug him over the shoulders and drags her fingernails through his hair. A soft sob whooshes from his chest without his permission.
"How is he?" Carole murmurs.
"Overall? Not so bad, but the head injury-" Goose cuts himself off. "I don't know. Jester and Viper gave us a little time, but if he's not up again in a few days, we'll have to keep doing hops without him. I don't want to do this without him."
Carole quiets him and presses a kiss to his temple. "I know, honey."
"Daddy?"
Goose pulls back at the tug on his pants and finds Bradley peering up at him imploringly. "Hey, Brad-Brad. What's up, kiddo?"
"Ma said we were seeing you and Uncle Mav. Is he here?"
Of course, that's the first thing he asks. Bradley loves few things in this world as much as his Uncle Maverick. "Yeah, buddy. He's here," Goose answers, crouching down and resting his hands on Bradley's shoulders. "Uncle Mav is here, but there's something you need to know, okay?"
Bradley puts his tiny hands on Goose's face. "Is he hurt? Is that why you're crying?"
Goose sucks in a sharp breath. He hadn't meant to cry in front of Bradley, but it's too late to fix now. He nods as his son wipes at his tears. "Yeah, baby. Uncle Mav and I were in an accident. He was hurt pretty bad."
"Is he gonna be okay?"
"We don't know yet."
Bradley sniffles. "I wanna see him."
Goose picks Bradley up and gives him a comforting squeeze. "Okay, kiddo. We'll go see him. Just remember you can't jump on him like you usually do, all right? He's sleeping."
Just sleeping.
"Okay."
Carole wraps her arm around Goose and allows him to lead her toward Maverick's room. The walk takes less time than before, seeing as he's not lost in his own head this go-around. When he opens the door, Ice lifts his head. When he sees Bradley, he looks sick, as though only just now realizing how close they came to losing Maverick. Slider hovers near the window, silent and brooding.
Ice clears his throat and stands with a somewhat awkward glance at Slider. "Mrs. Bradshaw, I uh-"
"Carole is fine." She waves a hand.
"I'm-"
"Tom "Iceman" Kazansky," Carole finishes, a smile on her lips. "I've heard about you. Goose told me all about you guys. It's a pleasure."
Whatever Ice was about to say dies on his lips and he tries to smile back at her. It doesn't work well, since his eyes flick to Maverick midway through, but he tries. "The pleasure's mine, ma'am."
"So polite. Goose didn't tell me you were polite." She nudges him in the ribs.
"What does Goose tell you?"
Goose shoots her a playful glare, but Bradley interrupts. He squirms to be put down and climbs up Ice's chair onto the bed beside Maverick. When Mav doesn't react, Bradley whines and snuggles under Mav's left arm. Ice watches Goose's son pull Maverick's limp hand around himself, his expression torn between guilt and agony. Bradley lightly touches the splinted fingers of Mav's other hand.
"Ice," Slider calls, drawing his pilot's gaze. "Stop doing that to yourself."
Carole glances between them before fixing her eyes on Ice. After a discerning look, she steps closer and opens her arms to him. "Come here."
"Ma'am-"
Goose chuckles. "You'd better just accept it, Ice. She's not going to put her arms down until you do, and that could be a while."
Ice clenches his jaw, looking strangely vulnerable before he wraps his arms around Carole. Tension lines his shoulders for the first few seconds until he relaxes into her. She clicks her tongue when he apologizes, gently rubbing his back in soothing motions.
"Hey, Goose?"
Goose looks to Slider.
"I'm gonna go find some food. Do you want anything specific?"
"Not really hungry right now," Goose sighs, his gut twisting at the thought of putting food into it again.
Slider huffs. "Yeah, but I'm picking you up something anyway. Ice has been saying the same thing all day, but if you guys don't eat, you're going to feel worse. You'll want the energy, if nothing else."
"Yeah. Yeah, all right," Goose concedes. "Whatever is fine."
"No allergies I need to know about?"
"Nah. Mav's the one with weird food allergies. Nothing to worry about with the rest of us."
Slider checks with Carole, still enveloped in Ice's arms, before he leaves. Goose moves around the bed to sit on Mav's right side, careful not to disturb his arm in its sling. He's had a little time to process now, so seeing him like this isn't quite as bad. Mav looks banged up, for sure, but he's probably looked worse.
"You've got this, Mav," Goose says softly, sliding his fingers through Mav's hair. The younger pilot doesn't so much as twitch. "You come back to us, all right?"
With that, he settles in to wait.
They wait three days. After a few scans, the doctors confirm the swelling in Mav's brain from the concussion has gone down significantly, but they don't want to jump to any definitive conclusion. Like Commander Metcalf said; it's up to Mav.
On day four, Jester comes to collect them for their hops, but Ice doesn't want to go.
"Respectfully, sir, if Maverick isn't flying, then neither am I."
Goose's eyes nearly bug out of his head at the declaration and he considers stopping by the nurse's station to get his hearing checked. Even Slider looks surprised, so it must be true. What the hell happened to their stoic Iceman?
Jester cocks a brow. "Then, you forfeit today's points, Kazansky."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, ain't that a fucking peach."
All eyes in the room turn to the bed where a very tired Maverick grins like a cat who caught the canary. Goose moves first, diving for the bed and pulling Mav up into a hug. Mav groans in pain, but Goose doesn't let go. His shoulder is just sore and they both know it, otherwise he'd have complained.
Nick buries his face in Mav's good shoulder. "You scared the shit out of us, Pete. Don't you ever, ever do that again. Ever."
Mav holds him just as tightly with his free hand. The only reason Bradley isn't laying on him today is because Carole took him home to shower and change, but otherwise, the child stayed glued to his uncle's side. "Not planning on it."
"How do you feel?"
"Hmph. Like I got hit by a plane."
Goose snorts a laugh without thinking despite the ill-timed and borderline inappropriate joke. Simply having Mav awake to make a joke of any kind means the world to him. He's moving, just like he's supposed to be. "You've gotta be somewhat okay if you can still make stupid cracks like that," Goose muses, cradling Mav's head protectively. "You complete and utter dumbass."
Mav, ever attuned to Goose, nuzzles into his RIO's neck in comfort. "That's me."
When Goose finally lets go, Mav pulls back and cocks a brow at Ice. "Now, what's this I hear about you not flying? What the hell happened?"
Ice grits his teeth. "You nearly died because of me. That's what the hell happened."
"See, buddy? I told you he liked you."
"Shut the fuck up, Bradshaw," Ice grumbles.
Goose chuckles. "Aww, come on, Ice. That's not a bad thing. I just mean you only get all protective over people you actually like." He ruffles Mav's hair—gently, of course. "You should've seen him in Mom Mode the last four days."
"I do not have a Mom Mode."
Slider slings an arm around Mav's shoulders and echoes Goose's, "Yes, you do."
Iceman, pure and perfect and unaffected Iceman, clears his throat in awkward embarrassment. "Fine. Whatever."
"Come on, Ice. Nothin' to be embarrassed about. Come here," Mav beckons.
Hesitation flickers in Ice's gaze, but soon enough, he approaches the bedside and leans down to give Maverick a tentative hug. Mav feels tiny in his grip, but strong. It eases his concerns, ones that brewed mercilessly and menacingly as storm clouds over the last few days.
"I'm sorry I got you hurt."
Mav shrugs as well as he can with one good arm and lets him back away. "Accidents happen. You couldn't have known. Don't think I'm just going to gloss over the fact that you were skipping hops because I wasn't around."
"It's no fun if you aren't going to fight me for the points."
"Who's fighting, Kazansky? I can fly circles around you any day of the week."
Jester's rusty laugh fills the room from the doorway. "Damn ornery kids. I'll leave you to your measuring contest so I can let Viper know we haven't lost one of our pilots."
Mav grins. "Fit for duty, sir."
Goose would smack him on the head if he could. "We'll let the doctor decide that. Don't you dare try to escape this hospital and find your way into a cockpit before you're cleared. You hear me?"
Maverick pouts.
"No. No, don't pull your cute face on me. It's not working," Goose asserts. "Not this damn time, you menace."
"But Nick-"
Goose clamps a hand over his mouth. "No. Just this once, don't."
Mav almost tries to shoot back more stubborn attitude, but when he sees the tears in Goose's eyes, he comes to a full stop and caves instantly. Goose pulls him into another hug, holding him close and letting Mav's minute shifts thread reassurance into his bones. Mav is moving again.
"M' sorry I scared you," Mav whispers.
"I forgive you. Just try not to make a habit of ejections gone wrong, okay?"
Mav nods against Goose's neck. It takes a little while, but he eventually sniffles and buries his face in Goose's Hawaiian shirt. Nick forgot, since Mav was unconscious, that he'd have been terrified during the crash, too.
"We're here, Mav. We all made it."
Mav clings all the tighter. "Good. That's good."