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They class is studying in the library in the early afternoon when Viper walks inside and surveys the room, a strange look in his eyes and his hair disheveled for the first time since they met the man. They all stand at attention. For a long time, Viper says nothing.
"Respectfully, sir, are you all right?"
Viper's eyes snap to Maverick. It was like he hadn't even registered his presence standing in the middle of the pack rather than at the front. He deflates, relief bleeding over him before he seemingly realizes he's in public. "Lieutenant Mitchell, with me."
Maverick swallows. The fact that Slider and Ice weren't snorting under their breath about him being in trouble means they, too, noticed Viper's strange bearing. "May I ask why, sir?"
Goose edges the slightest bit closer, protective.
After a beat, Viper gives a decisive nod. "You may. At 0650 this morning, the Navy recovered one Duke "Menace" Mitchell."
Mav stares. His skin prickles with cold sweat. "H-His body? Sir?"
The commander shakes his head. "No, son," he replies, his voice almost... warm. "As a POW. He was delivered for debrief at 0800. There was transport arranged after a thorough questioning, and as of three hours ago, he arrived in Lemoore. ETA is 1730." Viper actually does smile at him after saying as much, his eyes crinkling. "He's coming to see you, Maverick."
Whatever happens next, Mav isn't sure. All he knows is that one second, he's looking at Viper and the next, he's blinking blearily at the ceiling. A familiar mustache appears above him, blurry as it is.
"Mitchell-"
"What's wrong with him?"
The mustache disappears for a second, but Goose's voice remains nearby. "Easy, fellas, easy. Just give him some space. He'll come around in a minute. It's gotta be a lot for him."
"Goose?"
Goose nods, smoothing a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Mav. It's me. You okay?"
"M' on the floor."
"Yeah, yeah, you are, buddy."
Mav shifts, uncomfortable. "S' really cold."
"You're in shock," Goose supplies. He rubs Maverick's arm reassuringly, soothing him. "You remember what Viper was saying before you made it down here? It's okay if you don't."
After considering his answer, Mav shakes his head. If he wasn't so weirdly numb to everything right now, Mav might be worried. "We in trouble?"
Laughter, both soft and oddly fond, sounds off from multiple sources. Mav comes to the solid conclusion they aren't alone. He glances around, finding Ice, Slider, Hollywood, Wolfman, Chipper, and Sundown all hovering a short distance away with tentative smiles on their faces. What the hell happened to him?
"No, bud," Goose chuckles. "We're not in trouble."
Finally, Mav's sees Viper, the worry on his face and his ruffled manner, and it all comes rushing back to him. His father is alive. His father was a POW for seventeen years, and he's still alive. Pete can hardly fathom the idea of it. For so long, his father's death hung over his head like a guillotine, one wrong move threatening to end him for crimes Duke supposedly committed.
Duke hadn't deserted at all. He was captured—captured and held all this time while Pete lived with the unjust consequences. It's.... Pete doesn't know how to feel.
Relieved?
Anxious to see him?
Sad?
.... Angry?
Pete really, truly doesn't know, but angry seems the most likely, because the Navy was wrong. They were wrong and they fucking knew they were wrong, and they still made his father out to be a villain and let Pete suffer for it. They left his dad over enemy lines, only finding him now because.... He doesn't even know why. Because it was convenient, maybe?
He looks to Goose, half-desperate. "Nick-"
Goose pulls Mav up into his arms and holds him steady while he trembles. Viper is kind to them, patiently waiting for Mav to process today's monumental turn of events. Any other CO would've ordered him to get off his ass and follow them by now.
"H-Help me up," Pete croaks.
"You got it, Mav." Goose wraps an arm around him, supporting him at the shoulders as he tries to remember how his legs work. "Nice and slow. We're not in any rush."
Halfway up, Mav staggers, losing his balance momentarily until an arm positions itself under his free elbow. When he looks, he finds Slider at his side and Ice only a step behind him, ready to catch him if he falls. That's... weird. Ice and Slider don't even like him.
"Thanks, Sli, Ice," Goose says, smiling. "I've got him from here."
Slider nods and steps away, watching them join Viper at the front of the room.
"Lieutenant Bradshaw-"
"I'm coming with him," Nick insists, his expression leaving no room for argument even as he toes the line of insubordination. It's a rare thing to see Nick so serious. "Respectfully, you're just going to have to deal with me, sir."
Viper, to his credit, doesn't try to fight Goose on it. "All right, lieutenant. This way, then."
Mav stays close to Goose the entire way to the briefing room where Viper deposits them. Predictably, Goose hovers and fusses, and Mav doesn't have the heart to stop him. Instead, he allows Goose his anxious shuffling. With Mav putting up negligible resistance to any of his work, Goose takes it upon himself to groom Mav's hair and straighten his uniform. His RIO gingerly tugs his hands and unfurls his fingers from where they dig into his palms. Pink divots mark his skin, but no blood wells in them.
"You're okay, honey," Goose soothes. "Don't get lost in the clouds."
"M' here." Mav finds his RIO's eyes, sniffing. "Just.... I can't believe.... After this long, I never-"
Goose's mouth ticks up, slightly crooked under his mustache. "Well, you'd better start believing it, buddy, because he's gonna be here soon, and I'm gonna make sure you're in top form."
Warmth buds in Mav's chest. Goose always manages to cheer him up, life-altering surprises or no. His steady presence pulled Mav through his worst nightmares and out the other side, and now Goose will stay with him through what might truly be the strangest day of his life. It might also be the best day of his life, but Maverick's anxiety amps up every time he so much as thinks about getting his dad back.
Duke will be discharged, for sure, but Mav can't help wondering if the Navy will discharge him with honor or fuck him over again. He hopes for the former considering his dad didn't get thrown in a prison cell the second he hit stateside. Stateside.
His dad is home.
"Whoa, bud, take it easy," Goose says gently, slipping a hand under his arm when he sways. "Sit, before you fall over."
Mav slumps into the chair Goose leads him to, suddenly exhausted. Dimly, he realizes it's not a chair but a couch, so when his RIO settles beside him, he crawls into the taller man's lap and buries his face in his shoulder.
Laughing softly, Goose winds his arms around Mav's back, supporting his weight, and hums with contentment. "You can sleep. I'll wake you up at twenty 'til."
So, Mav sleeps.
When he rouses again, his thoughts drift around in a murky puddle of confusion until Goose reminds him what happened. Mav's nerves tip into overdrive, making him more jittery than ever. His knees bounce, and if they don't, then his fingers tap and his thoughts race. Goose, the genuine soul, crouches in front of Pete and folds his smaller hands into a firm but tender hold. The gesture settles him.
"Breathe, bud," Goose croons.
Pete does as he's told.
"And again."
Pete complies.
"That's good, brother. You've got it," Goose praises, his fingers automatically moving to fuss with Mav's hair and straighten his collar. Another crooked smile adorns his features. "You look great, honey."
"Thanks, dear," Mav croaks. "I don't know where I'd be without you."
Goose gives his hands one last squeeze before helping him to his feet. "Let's not endeavor to find out, huh?"
A couple minutes before 1730, the two of them stand near the door at parade rest. A ruckus indicates the arrival of Duke's entourage and Mav tenses. Someone isn't happy. In fact, the annoyed party sounds furious.
"-don't want to go to another debriefing, Mike! If I wanted to go to another debriefing, I'd have stayed at Lemoore!"
Viper's lower voice, strained, takes on an agitated note. "If you'd let me get a word in edgewise, you stubborn son of a bitch, you'd know we weren't going to another debriefing. It's a briefing room, that's all-" His voice cuts off abruptly. "Stay in the damned chair, Duke!"
"I don't-"
"Want to, yes, I know. However, not only are you under a strict medical advisory, I outrank you —Enough, you bullheaded fucker! You were in the hospital less than eight hours ago."
Goose snorts and keeps his voice low. "Gee, why does that sound familiar?"
Mav sticks his tongue out at Goose, his neck flushing with heat even as a lump forms in his throat. His father's voice is rougher than he expected, but not too horrible. It's not like he remembers enough about how he sounded before to compare between now and seventeen years ago, but still. In all honesty, Duke could sound like complete shit and Mav would still be grateful.
"You're a dickhead, Mike."
"Uh-huh." Viper's tone changes as he calls through the door. "Boys, the door, please."
Seeing as Mav's feet refuse to lift from where he planted them, Goose creeps over and lets Viper into the briefing room. Mav watches the commander wheel his father into the room. Within seconds, his heartrate resumes its fluttering tempo.
At first, he presses against the wall and heaves shaky breaths, scared for reasons he doesn't understand. The figure in the wheelchair is scrawny and gaunt, even under his borrowed cargo pants and sweater, but not unrecognizable the way Mav feared. It seems his dad insisted on a haircut and shaving the first chance he got considering the shaving nick at the edge of his jaw. Dark hair adorns his head, dusky gray instead of black like Mav's. He kept the mustache he always bore in the very few pictures Mav has of him. His eyes, pale brown to Mav's green, still glint with fire.
He's pissed.
"Glare all you like, Mitchell. You don't scare me," Viper grumbles. He looks so very long-suffering that thinking they don't know one another would be outright idiotic. "Although, it looks like you might be scaring him." Viper jerks his head Maverick's way. "You boys feel free to move around, and pardon my friend's poor attitude. He's an impatient bastard."
Duke's gaze finally lands on Maverick and Goose. His brow furrows. "Mike?"
Commander Metcalf pats Duke's shoulder. "Duke, I'd like you to meet a couple of my aviators, Maverick and Goose, our best and brightest. Also known as Nick Bradshaw-" He indicates Goose, "-and Pete Mitchell."
Maverick swallows hard. His father's mouth falls open in silent shock as he takes in the sight before him. Then, trembling, he presses his hands on the briefing room table and stands.
"Duke-"
"Mike," Duke growls. "Would you kindly fuck off for two damn minutes while I hug my son? I'm not going to shatter."
To their surprise, Viper backs off. He meets Mav's eyes over Duke's shoulder and smiles softly, then mimes taking a breath. The commander nods proudly when Mav follows his wordless direction. It hardly matters, because Duke's gaze rests heavily on him, emotions flickering over his face in rapid succession. Still, Mav stays rooted to the spot. His chest tightens, and each consecutive inhale grows shorter than the last.
Goose's hand finds its way between his shoulders and Mav shoots him a helpless look.
"Go on, buddy," Goose murmurs, subtly smoothing the hair at the nape of his pilot's neck. "It's okay."
With a hiccupping breath, Pete takes a staggered step toward his dad where the man braces himself against the table. Despite Viper's reminder about him being all but bed-ridden only hours ago, Duke pulls away from the solid surface to meet his son in the middle.
"My boy." Duke lifts shaky hands to the sides of Pete's face, effectively halting him and bringing tears to his eyes. He'd be embarrassed if his father's eyes weren't welling up, too. Duke's fingers slide up to Mav's ears, then to the top of his head, carding through the dark locks as his expression crumbles. A sob crawls from his throat, strangled.
Mav shudders as his dad strokes his hair. "Dad."
Duke pulls him forward into a hug without warning. His body trembles with strain, weak from disuse and malnutrition. Beneath Mav's hands, he feels brittle, as if a single wrong touch might turn him to dust. He keeps his contact light and careful. Contrary to that, Duke clutches his son with a grip of steel. Mav's solid presence buoys him up, easily supporting the older man's taller frame.
"Look at you, Petey," Duke chokes out, cradling Pete's head with one hand as he feels along the strong lines of his shoulders and down his back with the other. "You've gotten so big, kiddo."
Pete keens, burying his face in his dad's shoulder when the older man quiets him. A whine draws from his chest as his dad's knees buckle, but he guides him to the ground and holds him there. Tears fall into his hair, matching the ones Pete lets flow into the shoulder of his dad's sweater.
Together, they stay curled on the floor until a light hand at his back reminds him they still have an audience. A glance at the clock tells Pete they sat in the same spot for almost twenty minutes. All skin and bones, Duke can't be comfortable in the least. Pete pulls away with a sniffle, wiping his puffy eyes and leaning back on his haunches. Goose's hand is the only thing that keeps him from falling over, and Pete leans into it.
"I brought you fellas some tissues," Goose offers.
"Sir," Mav scrapes out, looking to Viper and motioning to his dad. "Could you...?"
"Of course, son," Viper agrees, joining them and leaning down to slip his arms under Duke's. "Up we go, Menace."
Goose does the same for Mav, lifting him and letting him tilt against his chest when he finds his feet. Duke growls something at Viper under his breath. Viper, for his part, remains nonplussed, helping the older Mitchell into his wheelchair. In fact, he seems perfectly content to annoy the shit out of Duke by pushing him around in it against his will.
"You're insufferable," Duke grumbles.
Viper hums. "And you're exhausted. I'll take you-"
"I'm not going back to a hospital. I've been trapped in one room for however damn long and I'm not in the mood to be poked at anymore."
"Would you stop interrupting me? I was going to say I'd take you home. Carrie always keeps the guest bed made up and you know she'll be pleased as punch to see you again. You'll need someone to look after you anyway, seeing as you're an outpatient."
Duke glares.
Viper arches a brow, matching the man's ire. "You get two options: the hospital or my place. No-" Viper drawls when his patient opens his mouth to complain, "-exceptions. And don't you dare try to justify yourself, because your son is standing right there learning from this. You want to teach him neglecting himself over a point of pride is all right?"
After a beat, Duke presses his lips together, irritated, but he relents. "Your place."
"Good choice. Dumbass."
Mav glances up at Goose, mulling the exchange.
"Would you look at that, buddy?" Goose chuckles, turning Pete towards himself and giving him a healthy squeeze. "He needs more wrangling than you do. Least now we know you come by it honestly."
"Shut up," Pete mutters, his neck flushing pink.
Snickering, the RIO fits Mav under his arm and leads him onward as Viper wheels Duke from the room. If not for Goose, Mav doubts he could've kept up with them. His mind whirls over the day's events, and he'll sooner walk into a wall than navigate to Viper's house safely on his own. Distracted like so, he completely misses everything Viper, apparently, sat him down to explain in the comfort of his cozy living room.
"Maverick?" Viper intones, concern inlaid into his tone. "You all right, son?"
Mav blinks at the older man a few times. He doesn't even remember getting here. "Where's...?"
The commander's brow furrows with concern, but he seems to settle on ignoring the lapse. "Carrie settled him in for some sleep. Unfortunately, I doubt he'll get all that much, but... he needs it regardless. Goose handled his meds, so at least he shouldn't be in pain."
"Oh."
Viper stays crouched in front of him, silent and soothing all at once.
Swallowing, Pete shakes his head. "I just.... I don't know." He offers his CO an imploring look. "This whole time, you.... You knew my father? And you didn't say anything?"
Regret and sorrow flicker across the older aviator's face and he heaves a gusty sigh. "Yes, and I'm sorry for that, Maverick. I truly am. Ever since I first saw you at orientation, I wanted to tell you the truth about your dad, about... me."
"You?"
"I didn't just know your dad, son. I was his wingman, his Goose, if you will, and I was.... I was there the day Duke went missing." Viper searches Mav's expression when they lock eyes, continuing softly but with surety. "The truth is, your father saved my life and the lives of our entire squadron all those years ago. That foolhardy bastard faced down a half-dozen enemy aircraft on his own so we could escape. We all saw him go down, but.... Ah, hell," Viper croaks, straightening and dragging a calloused hand over his face. "I should've known he was too stubborn to die."
Maverick watches him, a faint frown etching his brow. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's classified up to the eyeballs and then some, that's why. I technically shouldn't even be telling you this now, but with Duke here and on the mend, I get the feeling the deserter stance won't hold much water anymore. You deserve to know your dad's a hero, son. I was about ready to tell you anyway, even without all this."
A tentative smile forms on Mav's lips and smooths his pinched features. "Thank you."
"Sure, son."
After a moment of quiet, Mav makes a discontented sound. "Is that why you're so nice to me? Because of him?"
"No. No, that's not why." Viper brushes his mustache, giving it a twitch. "I'm nice to you because A) you do have talent, but you still have a lot to learn and won't reach your potential without some interference on your behalf, and B) because you're my godson, and I love you."
Maverick stares.
"Carrie and I.... We wanted to take you in. The system said we were unqualified. 'Didn't meet the ideal qualities,' as they said. I suppose that was an indirect way of calling us a military family."
Maverick stares some more.
Viper takes pity on him. "Okay. I can see I've put too much on your mind for the moment. Why don't you lay down and have a nap yourself? I need to go fix my lesson plans anyway, since today's shenanigans nixed Hop 31 from the schedule." When Mav makes no move to follow the older aviator's instructions, Viper arranges him carefully and tugs a blanket off the back of the couch. "Stay here. Rest a while."
"Yes, sir."
"You, um...." Viper winces. "Here at home, you can call me Mike, all right, son?"
Mav gives the slightest of nods in response, watching the older man putter out into the kitchen where a binder sits on the island. When Viper seats himself in clear view of the couch, Mav closes his eyes and simply breathes for a minute. For the last month and a half, his last remaining family looked him in the eye every day all the while knowing he could never tell Pete the truth. Worse still, Pete didn't remember his own godfather. He couldn't put the pieces together even if he wanted to.
For the longest time, it was Pete against the world. Now, he has his family back, and if Viper is right, they won't have to be against the world at all. They could be okay.
"Hey, buddy. You doin' all right?"
Rather than replying, Mav reaches blindly for his RIO. Goose takes it in stride, lifting him just far enough to settle on the couch beneath him. His long fingers slide through Mav's hair, quieting his mind. The deft strokes continue for some time. It's nice.
"The hits just keep on comin', don't they, Mav?" Goose sighs. "I'm happy for you, though. Got part of your family back."
"Viper's my godfather," Mav mumbles.
Goose barks a laugh. "No shit? That actually explains some things."
Maverick hums, sinking into Goose's embrace. His RIO doesn't push, simply adjusting his hold and letting his pilot take comfort in his presence. Today really has been a lot. Not only did he get his dad back, but his godfather, and in a way, the truth he's been seeking his whole life. His dad is a hero. His dad made it home, and Mav knows it'd be a cold day in hell before Viper let his best friend be railroaded again after coming home as a POW.
Lightly dozing, he hears a choked voice over his shoulders. "He's beautiful. I never thought-" A breathy noise flutters from above him, and Mav identifies it as a sob. "I imagined so many times what he'd look like now."
A beat passes before Mav realizes it was his father, speaking so lowly he could barely make out the words.
"He's a good kid," Goose says softly. "Got a lot of heart."
"Yeah?"
Goose makes a noise of confirmation. "Yeah."
"Mike.... He told me the system wouldn't let him take Pete after Helen-" Duke breaks off and clears his throat. "Pete.... He grew up alone?"
"For the most part." Goose presses his face into Mav's hair. "He's been through a lot."
Duke shuffles. "I'd imagine. He seems to trust you, though."
A low sound, nearly a laugh, leaves Goose's mouth. "I ran across him when he was fifteen. He'd run away from his foster family, so I brought him home to mine instead. My parents kinda treated him like a stray cat, leaving food out in obvious places and such since he didn't want to get close, but-" This time, Goose does laugh, and he kisses Mav's head. "Well, I just loved him to death. About a hundred hugs a day warmed him right up."
Mav does his best not to smile at that, no matter how true it is, and waits for his father's response.
"So, I have you to thank for raising him."
"Nah. He did most of the raising himself. I just... cleaned up the rough edges a little bit. He's still trouble; although, I'm starting to get the impression it's genetic."
Duke chuckles. "You and Mike would probably agree on that."
Before Goose can reply, a door closes upstairs and heavy bootsteps follow. Viper doesn't sound amused when he barks, "Duke!"
"Speak of the devil. My escape has been discovered, it seems," Duke sighs. "If you don't mind, I'm going to sit before he gets down here. While normally, I love a good lecture, I get the feeling Mike's not in the mood for indulging me in a simple scolding and my endurance isn't what it used to be."
"No problem," Goose chirps. "I have it on good authority that Viper's recliner is prime real estate."
"You're a pal, young Mr. Bradshaw."
Mav makes pretend at rousing when Viper joins them in the living room, and he gets a front row seat to his CO silently fuming while his dad looks up at him from the man's own chair with a face of innocence. The two crotchety old bastards have a battle of wills right there on the spot. Mav wonders if he was ever this bad for Goose. He hopes not.
"Duke-"
"I'm not staying in that room by myself."
Just like that, Viper softens. It doesn't take a genius to know why. "All right. You want to be down here, fine, but just... stay. It's a miracle you made it down the stairs without cracking your fool head open."
Duke smirks.
"Don't give me that. I'll go make fresh tea. Carrie prepared you some broth earlier, so I hope you're hungry."
"Sounds good, thank you."
Viper glances their way. "You kids, too?"
Goose claps a hand over Pete's mouth when he opens it to decline. "We'll both have a bowl if there's enough, sir. Mav got caught up studying and missed lunch."
Mav licks Goose's hand in retaliation.
"See? He's trying to eat me."
"Oh, fuck you, Goose."
Goose huffs, poking him in his vulnerable sides and laughing when he giggles and jerks reflexively. "In your dreams, honey. I'm a taken man, and quite happily so."
Duke shifts in Viper's chair. "You're married?"
"Here we go." Mav rolls his eyes. Anyone who knows Goose knows better than to get him started on his wife and kid.
"Oh, yes, sir," Goose beams. "Been married five years now. Her name is Carole, and she's an angel walking the earth. I tell you, I've never met anyone so pretty, and she's got the smarts to cut a three-star admiral down to size. The first time we met, she'd just kicked Kevin Dover where it hurts, and I swear, I'd never seen anything so beautiful."
Duke arches a brow while Pete snickers at his expense.
"She was wearing a blue sundress, and white sandals with these little flowers on 'em. Mav here practically dragged me closer and shoved me into her, and by that point, all my roguish charm and stunning intelligence had gone right out the window."
"Like you had any to begin with."
"Hush, you."
Mav snorts.
Pointedly ignoring the comments from the peanut gallery, Goose continues. "Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, I was gonna tell you she nearly socked me, too, stopped only by this little miscreant. By the time I picked my jaw up off the concrete, Mav had already told her half of my embarrassing stories."
"Like you can judge. You can't keep a secret for shit."
"Can too!"
"Name one."
Goose considers. "Well, there was that one time when you were-" He stops, his eyes going wide with realization before he scowls. "Now, listen here, you little shit."
Maverick cackles, sitting up to take the broth Viper carries into the room for them. "I rest my case."
"That's familiar, huh, Mikey?" Duke laughs, taking his own bowl with shaky hands.
Viper offers up a gruff noise, not exactly agreement but something close. "It wouldn't sound so familiar if you weren't a frankly ridiculous pain in the ass. At least Maverick's a little better than you are." Viper pauses, and Mav can practically see him replaying the tower buzzing in his head as he fetches Goose's broth. "And worse."
Duke smirks under his mustache. "I don't see you complaining."
"Carrie tells me I'm a glutton for punishment." Viper gingerly hands Goose the hot liquid. "She also says that's why I teach."
"Missed pulling your hair out every day that much, did you?" Duke muses, slurping from the edge of the bowl. The second the warmth rushes over his tongue and the rich scent wafts into his nose, he issues a faint whine of pleasure. Everyone politely ignores his reintroduction to a decent meal. No doubt, the first thing the Navy gave him was either an IV or mess hall food.
A crime, really.
"Missed yelling at dumbasses, more like," Viper replies, his crow's feet crinkling when Duke scowls at him.
"Respectfully, sir," Goose pipes up. "If I had two Mitchells under my command, I'd retire." He softens the words with a loving squeeze around Mav's shoulders.
Duke hums. "Well, I'm not technically under Mike. My CO is either retired or dead by now, I'd bet. Hated that guy. What was his name again?"
"Richards," Viper supplies.
"Rat bastard, more like."
Viper lifts a cup of coffee in stalwart assent. "Fortunately, he is very dead. How about I fill you in on the last seventeen years? I can think of some phone numbers to give you if you wanted to call the old squadron and let 'em know you're back to haunt their asses."
"Sounds good."
Viper perches in his wife's reading chair and spends the long evening regaling them with tales of his years before teaching Top Gun, his dad throwing in little asides and details about members of their old squadron. Mav settles in to listen. This is the most he learned about his father at one time in almost twenty years. Whatever luck the Mitchell family lives by, he just found himself with all the time he could ask for with his father.
"Dad?"
"Hm?"
"Why's your callsign Menace?"
Duke shoots Viper a warning look when the other man snickers under his breath. "Contrary to anything Mike says, it was because my original squadron was lazy. They watched Dennis the Menace, whose last name was Mitchell. That's the only reason."
"The only reason they gave you to your face," Viper teases.
"Has anyone ever told you you're an asshole, Mike?"
"Oh, once or twice." Viper reaches over to gently clap Duke's shoulder. "But it's good to be reminded. It's good to have you back."
Duke's smile trembles but holds. "It's good to be back."