Work Text:
"How're you doing back there, Roo?"
Rooster groans, lifting his hand from where it was clenched over his leg to check his wound. "It's not looking great. Fuck." He hisses between clenched teeth.
"All right. Just hang tight. See if you can get the radio working and get us in contact with the boat."
"Mav-"
"I know, kiddo," Mav answers. "I know. Just do your best."
*******
Hangman saves them, and for a moment, high on adrenaline and relief, Mav forgets. "Rooster, are you okay back there?"
No answer.
"Talk to me, Rooster."
Jake flies at Mav's wing. "Everything all right over there, Maverick?"
"Rooster!" Mav shouts, trying to get a response from the kid. "Shit. We need emergency medical the minute we touch down on the boat. One party injured. Most of the damage is to his left thigh, high and to the right, and there's some across his ribs. We tied off his leg, but he was still oozing when we got in the air."
"Roger that, Captain." Jake breaks off to land on the carrier, leaving them the space necessary to land without the front gear. "Be safe."
Mav doesn't answer him, instead craning his head around to catch a glimpse of his son in the reflection of the canopy. All he sees is red-orange, meaning the kid's head is bowed forward. "Rooster! Rooster, wake up! Come on, kid!"
Rooster tilts limply against the canopy as Mav buzzes the tower and pulls a tight turn to bleed their airspeed a little quicker.
"Rooster, respond!" Mav calls, desperation creeping into his voice. This can't be happening. They can't have survived their ejections and stolen an F-14 just to die here. He can't lose his son like this. Mav glances down, crimson trails smearing under his boots. "Bradley! Bradley, talk to me, kid! Come on, baby, stay with me!"
"Mav," Bradley breathes, his voice coming across comms as a pained gasp.
Maverick holds steady even as the right-hand engine fails, turning off the left as soon as he feels it to avoid a spin. Rooster would never make it if they hit water. "That's it, kiddo. Stay awake."
"Hurts."
"I know it does, Bradley. Landing's gonna be rough, but try to stay awake, all right?"
Bradley lets out a whimper that probably started out as an agreement of some sort, bracing himself for the aforementioned landing. "There's so much-" A frightened noise fills the cockpit. "There's so much blood, Mav!"
Mav calls out his landing and in mere seconds, they're being dragged to a stop after a jolting and screeching crash to the deck. He opens the canopy and unstraps himself as quick as he can manage, calling for Bradley as he drops to stand on the edge of the wing and look into the RIO's seat. The fire crew and medical team quickly take over the situation, pulling him back before he even gets a look at his son's face. All he sees is his flight suit soaked in blood along the left leg when they pull him out.
"Pops! Breathe! You gotta breathe!"
Maverick shakes his head, clutching at his chest and bending over. Bradley could be dying right now, and Mav's whole world feels like it's dying right alongside him. First Goose, then Carole, then Ice, and now Bradley. It should've been him. It always should've been him.
People touch him. He feels that much. He doesn't know what they're doing or where they lead him, but he knows they're touching him. Soon enough, the world around him muffles.
At first, Mav thinks he went into shock. This feels almost like what it was like when Goose died. Almost. It's more like coming out of it.
Maybe he already went into shock? That makes sense, because this is more like someone covered his ears, and when he takes a second to feel, he realizes someone actually did. His head rests on said someone's chest, right over their heart. It pumps steadily. His other ear, the one facing the outside world, is covered partially by a hand and partially by the open zip-front of a flight suit. He knows it's a flight suit because the cold metallic edge of the zipper rests against his neck.
For a long few minutes, Mav simply waits, taking in his situation an inch at a time because that's really all he can handle.
First, the voice. The person holding him speaks, maybe to him, maybe not. Mav hears the words rumbling through their chest. Their heart pounds, powerful and perhaps a bit too fast to be strictly normal. They breathe steadily. A suspicion lurks in his mind that they do so for his sake more than any sense of calm.
"Come on, Pops. Come back to us."
Hangman?
"I think he finally hears you. His breathing's leveling out. I can tell from over here."
That's Bob. Mav is sure of that much. What does he mean by 'finally?'
"Thank fuck," Hangman's voice rumbles. "When the docs said he'd been like this since they brought him in two hours ago, I thought for sure Rooster was gonna have a conniption when he woke up and saw him."
Shit. He's been out of it that long?
"What do you mean?"
"I know you guys were off comms at that point, but you should've heard Mav when he realized Rooster was fading. I thought he sounded frantic when Coyote went into G-lock and during the bird strike, but this was another level entirely. And.... It was only the once, but I-" Hangman makes some kind of motion Mav can't follow without opening his eyes. "I could've sworn that Mav called Rooster 'baby.'"
Oh, shit. He did, didn't he?
"Baby, as in...?"
Hangman huffs a laugh. "That, I couldn't tell ya', Bob. I admit, I'm curious, but I already stuck my nose in their business once. I'll at least wait until things have settled and we're back on dry land to start asking questions."
How considerate of him.
"How's Rooster doing over there?" Hangman asks, clearly uncomfortable in the long silence.
Bob makes a noise. "Still sleeping. They said he'd be out for a long time between the stress of his injuries and the painkillers. Maybe even until tomorrow."
Jake huffs. "Well, the docs say a lot of things. Mav's said he shouldn't even still be conscious and sitting up, despondent or no. Rooster may have gotten the worst of it, but he's not the only one banged up. Just read the chart."
"You read his chart? You're not supposed to read the chart unless you're next of kin or medical personnel."
"Like they're gonna know."
Bob stays quiet for a minute before shifting something around. He does it again. Mav realizes he must be fidgeting. "What did you learn from the chart?"
"Why, Bob. You little rebel."
"Just tell me."
Hangman chuckles and clears his throat. "Well, my peek at private information regarding the health of our beloved Captain Mitchell revealed many things to me, up to and including his date of birth. Heads up, we got our asses kicked by a guy who's retirement age. Military retirement, anyway. 53. Pretty nuts, right?"
Bob sighs. "Would you get to the point, Bagman?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
Mav just barely keeps himself from cracking a smile. It's kind of nice to be a spectator to Jake's shenanigans rather than the one trying to get him to tone it down. This must be what Ice felt like when they were at Top Gun.
"Fine, fine. Quit glaring at me," Jake sighs. "Some people place no value on suspense."
"You're the one who brought it up."
The cocky aviator concedes with a click of his tongue, then, after a moment of silence, sobers. He bears the most serious tone Maverick has ever heard him use. "From top to bottom, he's got a mild concussion, a cut on his neck that took three stitches, heavy bruising on his right shoulder, the usual harness bruising, ejection bruising, two broken ribs, a graze from a bullet over his left hip, bruising down his right thigh to the knee, and a broken toe."
Bob puffs out a long breath of air. "Ouch."
Mav wouldn't know. They must have him on some good painkillers.
"What's Rooster got?"
"What? I'm not reading his chart."
Jake scoffs. "I literally just told you everything that was on Captain Mitchell's, but you draw the line at reading it with your own eyes? Come on, Bob." When silence falls over them, Hangman shifts. "Bobby. Come on, Bob. Bobbert. Bobbo. You know you want to know."
"Would you shut up? I'm contemplating committing a crime."
"Breaking doctor-patient confidentiality?"
"First-degree murder, actually."
Hangman shuts up, and Mav feels his body rock as he raises his free hand in surrender. Wow, he loves these kids. Mav silently prays for Bob to take the plunge so he knows what to expect from Rooster when he finally decides to reengage the rest of the world.
Movement signifies Bob's concession to Jake's wheedling, pairing nicely with Jake's laughter. "I knew it."
"Shut up."
"Then, tell me what we both want to know, Oh Great and Morally Ambiguous One."
Mav hears bootsteps and then the distinct sound of a clipboard smacking somebody upside the head. He bites back a laugh with all his might as Jake yelps. Goodness gracious, he loves these stupid kids.
"I've been waiting to do that for two weeks."
Jake whines. "After everything I did to save Rooster and Mav, this is the way I get treated? Pops would treat me better."
"Mav publicly embarrassed you. And I don't think he'd take too kindly to you snooping around his personal information if he knew about it."
"You're literally about to do the same thing."
Bob scoffs. "Whatever, Bagman." His footsteps retreat, and the deliberately slow flipping of pages echoes through the med bay. He's obviously more nervous about what he'll find than getting in trouble for reading about it. "Blood loss, obviously. Three pieces of shrapnel removed from his left leg, a lesion across the left side of his chest that took twelve stitches, harness and ejection bruising, contusions at his shoulders and elbows from being thrown around in the cockpit of the F-14, and a pair of cracked ribs. No full breaks, though."
Silence creeps over them before Hangman rubs his face and takes a steadying breath. "Damn."
Mav silently worries for Bradley. He never intended for his kid to come back for him. In fact, when he took that missile, it was the exact opposite of what he intended. Unfortunately, Mav raised the kid. He's not sure what exactly he expected.
Eventually, Jake decides Mav's emotional state seems settled enough to try laying him down. Maverick doesn't fight him on it past a low moan of pain he can't help from the motion. Yeah. He's feeling those broken ribs now.
"I know, Pops. Just take it easy."
Mav has no such plans, though he appreciates the younger aviator letting him lean against him while he got his bearings back. He'll thank him later.
"We should let them rest without someone lurking over them."
"The medics said thirty-minute visits anyway, so yeah. They'll probably be trying to kick us out soon," Bob agrees, and Mav hears him replacing Rooster's chart from wherever he grabbed it. "Feel better, Mav," he murmurs, gently wiggling Mav's uninjured foot.
Exactly three minutes after they leave, Mav cracks an eye open to confirm the room sits empty. No medical personnel roam the med bay, and none of the other aviators hover near the door. Perfect.
Mav sits up, hissing and groaning as he jostles his shoulders, ribs, leg, and foot all in one go. His head aches a bit, too. At this point, all of that means nothing to him. He just wants to be closer to Bradley—wants to hear him breathe for himself. He slides off the bed, nearly slumping to the ground. Aside from the prickle of pain, his legs feel like they aren't even attached to his body. The eight-foot walk across the room takes far longer than it should and Mav slumps into the chair Bob must've been using. It's still warm.
Achingly, he scootches it closer to Bradley's bedside and leans toward the bed to take his hand. He feels Bradley's pulse under his skin, strong, like it should be. "Hey, kiddo," Mav whispers, bowing his head before the boy he raised. "I don't know if you can hear me right now, but you scared me half to death. You know that, don't you?"
Bradley, predictably, doesn't answer.
"I don't know why you came back for me, Bradley. I don't, even if I'd like to think.... Well. It doesn't really matter what I think, does it?" Mav squeezes Bradley's hand. "I'll tell you this again when you wake up if you'll let me, but I-.... I love you, baby goose. I always have, and all I ever wanted to do was protect you. From the moment I first held you, I-"
The hand in Mav's tenses and turns over, holding more firmly. "You can just tell me now," a rough, tired voice croaks. "Don't want you to have to repeat yourself."
Mav's head jerks up and he stands, though, he probably shouldn't. "Bradley? Baby, are you okay?"
"Feel foggy. Ow."
"You shouldn't have to listen to me babble, Roo. You need to rest."
Bradley manages a scoff, then winces. "No. I want to hear. I-" He sucks in a sharp breath, sniffling. "I want to. Now." He squeezes Mav's hand with a surprising amount of strength. "Fifteen fucking years of silence, then this... this shit. You almost- I can't- Mav."
"Don't work yourself up, Bradley. It can wait."
"No. Please." The younger aviator's eyes crack open and he stares up at Mav with tears in his gaze. "I can't take the silence, anymore. Please, tell me. I don't want to rest. I just want you, dad, please-"
Maverick settles on the edge of the bed, pulling his son's hand into his lap and wrapping his free one around his ribs. "Okay, baby goose. Okay. Shh."
Bradley's tears spill over.
The first few fall on the fresh shirt the medical team put on him before Mav thumbs at his cheeks. Suddenly, this confession feels heavier, but Mav can't weigh words anymore. He almost lost Bradley today. No more. "I know we haven't talked in forever, and that's my fault-"
"No."
An amused smile graces Maverick's face. "At least, let me say my piece before you start arguing with me, kiddo. I didn't even get one sentence in."
Bradley lets out a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. "Then don't say shit that isn't true. I could've picked up the phone. You reached out so many fucking times and I ignored you. Every letter, every call on my birthday, every time you were camped outside the door when I was in the hospital: that's all on me. I said so much shit that was uncalled for, and I-"
Mav wipes Bradley's face as he ducks away in shame, cupping his cheek. "I never blamed you."
"I blame me. I missed you so fucking much and I almost waited too long to make it right because I couldn't let go of one stupid damn thing-"
"It wasn't stupid, Bradley. I understood."
Bradley shudders, sniffling as he leans into Maverick's touch. "It feels stupid after today."
Mav quiets him, tears building in his own eyes. "I'm sorry I pulled your papers. All these years, I've told you I did it because you weren't ready, but I never got the chance to tell you I was sorry."
"Me, too. Not just for what I said to you the other day, but back then, too. I didn't mean it."
A soft smile flickers across Mav's face. "I forgive you. I always have."
Another sob leaves Bradley's mouth, but he tries for a smile, too. "Thank you." He takes a shaky breath through his nose and meets Mav's eyes again. "Now that that's cleared up, you can tell me what you were trying to say earlier."
"All right," Mav murmurs, still swiping at his son's tears while they fall. "I love you, kiddo. Even when you wanted nothing to do with me, that never changed, okay?" When Bradley nods, Mav continues, "I only ever wanted to protect you. I was so afraid of losing you, of screwing up your life more than I already had, but-"
"Stop." Bradley shakes his head, squeezing Mav's hand. "It wasn't your fault."
For the first time in all the years his friends and family have told him as much, Mav thinks he might actually believe it this time. "All right, then of screwing up your life in general." When Bradley scowls, Mav laughs, no matter that it makes his chest hitch. Bradley's ribs must be killing him, too. "Are you ever gonna let me get through this, kiddo?"
"Not at this rate."
"Well, how about I simplify it a bit?"
Bradley nods. "Skip to the good parts."
Maverick laughs again. Bradley used to hurry him through his storybooks as a kid, saying 'I know this bit already, Uncle Pete. Just skip to the cool parts. Please?' "Okay. Just the good parts. Let's see.... We covered that I love you, right?"
Another nod.
"And that I want to protect you. That's not going to change, by the way. I know you probably don't want me to ever do what I did today again, but if I have to, I won't hesitate. You understand that, right?"
Bradley agrees, sniffling as Mav cards his fingers through his curls.
"I guess that leaves... you're the most important part of my life." Mav watches Bradley fight back another round of tears and fail miserably. "You always have been and always will be. I know after I pulled your papers, it might not have felt like it, but I've always been proud of you. You've grown into such a good man, and while it hurts that I missed it, I don't want you to ever think otherwise."
"I-I thought that... when you pulled my papers that you weren't. That I'd failed you somehow and made you doubt me, but I couldn't figure out how."
Mav shakes his head. "Never."
Bradley bites the inside of his cheek before scratching out a weak, "Then, why?"
That is the question, isn't it? It always comes back to the why of things. "Two reasons, baby goose. I think you understand the first reason now, even if you hated me for it. I was trying to keep you safe a little longer. You'd try again. We both knew that."
"Both?" Bradley croaks, his voice small.
"Yes, both. Because I made someone very important to us a promise, a terrified young mother who was begging me to make sure you lived longer than your father, and if I could manage it, longer than her."
Bradley wheezes out a sob and lifts his eyes to the ceiling. "Of course, she did." He lifts his free hand to wrap it around his chest, squeaking out a pained noise. "Ow! Fuck. I should've seen that coming."
Mav hushes him. "Easy, kiddo. Don't hurt yourself."
"Trying not to."
"This is why I wanted to wait. We're both pretty roughed up."
The younger aviator shakes his head, leaning into Mav's touch when he steadies him. "Don't care. I don't care. I want to tell you now. No more waiting fucking forever. I could've lost you, a-and you'd have died thinking I hated you when it wasn't true. It wasn't true, and I'm so, so sorry-"
Maverick quiets Bradley, gently stroking his hair while he cries. "I know, but we made it. I'm here. I'm right here."
"I love you," Bradley whimpers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"I love you, too, kiddo."
The two of them sit together for a long while, calming down and adjusting to one another again. It may take a while to find their stride on the ground, but this is a damn good start. Mav can't help holding Bradley's hand, but if the kid minds, he doesn't say anything about it. He always was pretty tactile, but Maverick hasn't had the right to hold his son in years.
After another half-hour, Mav shifts, his body aching and smarting. "Think my painkillers are startin' to wear off, kiddo. They do pretty well when I'm not moving around, but damn."
Bradley opens his eyes. "Shit, I didn't even think- Are you okay?"
"I think you've got it a bit worse than me, kid. I'm fine."
"Lemme see."
Mav hesitates. "I'm not sure that's such a great idea."
"Yeah, 'cause it'll prove you're not fine. Now, let me see."
It would be a lie to say Mav forgot how stubborn Bradley is, because he knows exactly how bullheaded the kid can be. He had to get it from somewhere, and it certainly wasn't Goose. Goose was the agreeable sort. Mav, not so much.
"You're stubborn as a mule, you know that?"
"Yup. Hurry up."
Mav winces as he starts pulling his shirt up, already spotting deep bruises along his right side where he landed after ejecting. "I'm hurrying as much as I can, kiddo. Damn."
Bradley blinks. "Geez, old man. What the hell happened?"
"Well, I did come in a little hot after that last ejection. It's not exactly my first one this month, either," He answers, moving incredibly slowly as he draws his shirt over his head. Briefly, he wonders who changed him into it. "Before this, I ejected out of a test plane-" Mav hisses under his breath. "-going over Mach 10."
"I know the bruises say otherwise, but are you fucking indestructible, or what?"
Maverick laughs, dropping the shirt into his lap and looking himself over. "Heh. Nowhere close."
A small, nervous noise leaves Bradley's mouth. "I know."
"Hey." Mav reaches over, despite his aches and pains, and tips his son's chin up. "I'm okay. I won't leave you just yet."
"Promise?"
In that moment, Mav doesn't see the stubborn thirty-four-year-old fighter pilot who dove headfirst into danger for him, but instead the child he raised—the child who begged him days after his father's funeral not to leave him, too. "I promise."
Bradley smiles, pushing himself up in his bed a bit with a few winces of his own. "Last time you made me that promise, I got a hug."
Mav rests his free hand on Bradley's shoulder. "You sure you're up for that, kiddo?"
"Please?"
That's definitely not an answer, but like Mav can say no to his kid when all he wants is a hug. He sure as hell isn't the only one who could use it. "All right."
Somehow, their simple hug goes from a simple hug to Mav letting Bradley lay on top of his left side where the only bruises on him are harness related. The younger aviator probes at the bandage over his hip, making sure he didn't pull the tape off the edges while situating himself.
"How's your ribs and leg, kiddo?"
"They hurt, but that comes with the territory. As long as I don't move from here, I should be fine."
Mav chuckles. "Well, lucky you. You'll heal up way faster than me, even with all those stitches in you. I'll be nursing these broken ribs for a while."
"You're sure you're okay with me laying on you like this?"
"Of course."
Bradley rests his head on Maverick's chest, ginger and careful with every movement. Mav curls his arm around his son, allowing the younger aviator to hang onto him. He's sure they paint quite the picture arranged like so. One pilot, probably more bruise than skin, holding onto a much larger pilot who spends the next several hours asleep on his chest—he's sure the image is at least endearing to the other kids.
The medical staff are confused more than anything else, considering their two patients weren't supposed to be conscious, let alone moving around.
"Sir," Phoenix says, for the sixth time.
She's been trying to help the corpsman get him awake to move him back to his own bed, but Mav might be playing dead to let Bradley sleep longer. It won't hurt anything. They both could use the rest, and Mav is more comfortable like this than he ever is in a hospital-adjacent situation.
"Doesn't look like Mav's waking up for anybody but Rooster," Phoenix's muses. "Maybe we wake Rooster instead."
Mav opens his eyes with a cutting glare. "Don't you dare."
Phoenix simply smiles and approaches the bed, hands clasped casually behind her back. She arches a brow at him when Bradley nuzzles into his neck in his sleep.
"I can explain."
"I'm sure you can, sir."
Bradley shifts around just as Mav opens his mouth to respond, burrowing a little deeper into his side. "Shut up, dad. Tryin'uh sleep."
Phoenix blinks at that. Mav shoots her a look that says, I hope that answers your question. She stays quiet for a long while, watching over the both of them. The realization dawns on him that the other kids are taking turns keeping an eye on them, seeing as an hour ago, Fanboy was here, and Payback the hour before that.
"Lieutenant."
Phoenix inclines her head.
"Thank you for getting the others home safe."
She tries for a smile, but the regret laced within its twist dampens it somewhat. "You're welcome, but.... Sir?" She hesitates. "None of us wanted to leave you behind, and we-"
"You don't have to be sorry. I always intended to get you kids home, whatever it took. I just forgot that one of you was raised to be as much of a stubborn and reckless knucklehead as I am." Mav smirks when Bradley grumbles under his breath. "Weren't you, kiddo?"
Bradley murmurs a little, but otherwise stays asleep.
The corpsman clears his throat, arms crossed impatiently. "I take it you have no plans to move, Captain?"
"Not a one."
"We'd been briefed on your tendency to slip the care of the medical team, but if this makes you sit still long enough to actually heal somewhat, I suppose there are worse methods." The man walks over and starts checking him over right then and there. "Though, you really shouldn't be letting him sleep on you like this, I see you've both at least placed your weight on areas with the least injury."
"We're not completely idiotic," Mav assures him. "Dangerous, cocky, and stubborn, yes. Idiotic, no."
The corpsman doesn't look impressed. "That remains to be seen, sir."
Well.
Somebody's not in a good mood. He could probably use a break.
"Are you in any pain?" the man asks.
Mav chuckles, wincing as his ribs smart. "Very much so, doc, but it's just overall discomfort, nothing specific. Another dose of whatever they gave me last should do fine. You should get yourself some lunch, Kellan. Phoenix can make sure we don't try to make a run for it."
The corpsman brightens considerably both at being acknowledged and by the prospect of putting food in his stomach, glancing at Phoenix. When she nods, he gleefully goes about the remainder of his duties. "Thank you, sir. I'll be back in an hour to check on you again."
Mav hums. "Don't thank me. Thank Phoenix."
When the man leaves, Phoenix settles into the chair Mav left empty earlier. "You won't tell him if I take a nap?"
"I can promise you I'm not going anywhere. Not while Roo is out. Kid had a stressful day, so if sleeping on my chest will help, I can give him that much. He earned it."
"I'll say."
Mav hums, carding his fingers through Bradley's hair and smiling when his son gives another sleepy mutter. "All right, kiddo. All right. We're shutting up, now."
Phoenix tips her head back with a sigh before lifting it abruptly. "Oh, hey, Captain?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to explain this to the others, or just let them wonder what the fuck is going on?"
Mav resists the urge to huff and upset his ribs. "I like letting them stew."
The wily young aviator smiles at him when he glances her way. "So, does this mean that you're okay with it if I pretend I know nothing and set up a betting pool to rake in some serious dough? Jake's been driving me nuts trying to figure out what the deal is, and I really want to take his money."
Oh.
Mav loves her.
"Phoenix, sweetheart, remind me to serve you adoption papers when we get home," Mav mumbles, feeling the painkillers starting to kick in with a bit more oomph than he was expecting. "Remind me. Seriously. Like... six copies. Maybe more."
"Yes, sir."
"Love you kids."
"Yes, sir."
With that, Mav presses one last kiss into Bradley's curls and sighs contentedly. This day had a lot riding on it, but even roughed up and doped up on painkillers, he'll call it a win.
He may not be on dry land just yet, but it's good to be home.