Chapter Text
Thomas “Iceman” Kazansky wants to scream. He wants to scream until his voice disappears or the world breaks in half. Whichever came last. Ice hasn’t wanted to scream this badly in years. The last time he had was when Goose had died by his mistake. And he’d never been able to get rid of that need to scream at the pain. But this wasn’t that. This is worse than that. The feeling gnawing at him from the inside out. The pain of being stabbed is nothing compared to the pain he is feeling currently. Screaming would never get rid of this just like it never went away after Goose.
Thomas Kazansky knew they were taking a risk when they decided to go through with all this. But he trusts Elena. He had trusted Elena. But they could have never predicted what happened.
He and Mav had been together for 2 years when Mav had taken his hand one night after babysitting Bradley and whispered into his chest, “We would have a bomb-ass kid Kazansky.” Words so simple yet heavy with meaning. A promise of sorts about how much they loved each other, how much they trusted in what they had.
6 months later, they’d arranged everything with one Elena Trace. Ice had known Elena for years, having been introduced to her through his sister Sarah, who had been her best friend from college. They had even pretended to date for a while to prevent people from figuring out Ice was gay before he was ready to tell others. And nearly 9 months after that night of babysitting Elena placed a positive pregnancy test in their hands.
They celebrated and laughed and prepared for the little bundle of joy they would be welcoming into the world. They settled on names before even the gender had been known and when they discovered that they were having a girl they beamed with joy. They settled on her having the last name Mitchell over Kazansky since they couldn’t hyphenate legally without telling the Navy what they were and Ice insisted that Mav shouldn’t be the last Mitchell anymore. Natalya Elena Mitchell, they decided. Natalya for Ice’s grandmother who had raised him after his mother’s death and his father’s absence. Elena for the woman who was giving them this gift. They were happy and excited and it seemed like everything was perfect.
Then it all went so wrong. They’d been out in London for one of Ice’s cousin’s wedding when they’d gotten the call from Slider. The one that told them Elena had been T-boned and taken to the hospital. They’d raced to the airport, Mav gripping his hand the entire time on the flight back they’d managed to catch.
They’d been too late. Too late to say goodbye to either of them.
So here stands Ice, in the painted and perfectly put-together nursery. The stuffed animals in the crib that will never be played with by her now just staring at him. The little pieces that all the ‘86 class had sent that will build dust and she’ll never know the stories behind. The blanket Carole had made and stitched the name Natalya Elena Mitchell into splays out over the rocking chair in the corner. The framed picture of Bradley widely grinning in a shirt that said ‘Best Big Brother’ sits on the dresser.
Ice wants to scream in the possibility of what could have, would have, and almost been. His blood rushing in his ears at the sight of the empty crib taunting him. Of everything around him pushing the bitter fact none of it would ever be useful.
He knows Mav is out. Mav who is grieving as well. Mav who’d already fallen in love with their little Natalya without ever meeting her. Mav who is trying not to destroy their life together over this loss and is constantly distancing himself from Ice so he doesn’t lash out. Mav who can’t stand to stay in the house with this nursery in it. This nursery that they’ll never get to use. This happy bright nursery that taunts both of them.
Ice doesn’t even think as he turns and walks to the garage and grabs the spare metal baseball bat they have laying around from Ice’s youth, waiting to be used by Bradley one day. He doesn’t think about anything but the pain of this loss. He simply grips the handle of the bat tighter as he climbs back up the stairs and into the nursery.
And he screams, letting all his pain out as the bat cracks down on the crib that they’ll never get to use. He lets it out as wood breaks and cracks and continues till his voice is sore. At the end he still stands there, waiting for the world to break in two.
Finally, with a reluctant breath, he puts the bat down, leaning it against the wall of the room before grabbing the goose stuffed animal that Bradley had bought with Carole’s help. It’s the only thing he’ll keep in his office for 22 years that shows he ever had a daughter. It’ll sit on one of his shelves and whenever someone asks about it, he’ll simply state, “A gift from my son.” He’ll never explain further because no one needs to know more about it to him.
It’ll take months but the ‘86 boys will fly in and help to destroy the nursery, helping to slowly turn it back into a guest room. They’ll wipe everything but the pain away because that will never go away. They’ll keep the picture of Bradley and a few things like the blanket. But the stuffed animals will be given to foster care throughout the next year as they clean it out. None of them have the strength to remove it all in one go.
And one stuffy of a moose that had been a gift from Slider originally, with the words Little Troublemaker stitched into it, will be handed to a little girl at 11 months. A little girl with black hair and brown eyes and the spark of a fighter. A girl with no supposed family. A girl that will cling to that moose even as she goes through life and grows. She’ll keep it close as she goes into the Navy to try and pay for a college degree. She’ll have it with her when she falls in love with flying and becomes a naval aviator, unknowingly becoming a 3rd generation one. She’ll still have it when she befriends a Bradshaw, never knowing she was doing the same as her biological father had decades ago. The moose is one of the things she has in her hospital room when she earns the callsign Phoenix after burning in. She’ll still have it when she learns she’s wanted and has always had a family.
Natasha Trace was never meant to be an orphan. But that’s the rest of the story.