The next morning, Bob was up with the sun to make sure he was on base on time. One of the downsides of not taking base housing, but they didn't find anything that allowed dogs. 

Malina, despite not being a morning person at all, was up with him, wanting to see him off today. "I was already asleep when you got in last night, so how was the bar? Meet your team?" 

Bob nodded, while getting dressed. "It was fun, I'll admit. I think you'll like most of them, although there is this one guy I think you might have a problem with." Mal raises an eyebrow, silently asking for an elaboration. 

"He's just arrogant and full of himself. Doesn't seem like a team player, but maybe he will surprise me." Bob shrugs his shoulders at that last part. "But I have a feeling you are going to love my pilot." 

Malina finally drags herself out of the bed. "Well now you have me intrigued." Despite knowing he needs to eat and leave, she makes her way over to her husband, wrapping her arms around his waist, looking into the mirror they are standing in front of. 

"She's a spitfire, that's for sure. Gives out as much as she gets, from what I can tell. Callsign Phoenix." 

Malina almost jumped for joy. Anytime Bob introduced her to any female pilots or WSOs, she was excited. This job was hard for women to get in, regardless of the Navy allowing women into service for decades now. 

Bob finally pried his wife off of him before grabbing her hand to drag her to the kitchen. He needed to eat something before his day began and this way he could make sure Malina ate something as well. 

"So what did you end up eating last night?" Bob asked. Mal wouldn't meet his eyes, so he repeated the question. 

Malina sighed before admitting, "I had a bag of chips. I wasn't hungry and was too tired!" 

Bob gave her a stern look. They both knew she needed to eat more than that. So he started to make her some eggs, ensuring she had a good, filling breakfast before he left. 

You see, Malina was diabetic. Type 2, to be specific. So while she didn't need a constant insulin pump, she needed shots in the morning and night. But she also had to closely monitor her blood sugar. Unfortunately, Malina had a habit of forgetting to eat or just not feeling hungry, and almost passing out from low levels. 

That was what Nala was for. Malina had done this so often, her doctor told her about the Service Dog program, so her dog could alert her before she fainted. Bob all but jumped at the idea of Nala. He was always worried when he was deployed. 

"I know. I know. I need to eat. But on the bright side, this is only the third time in the past month I've forgotten to eat! It's getting better," Malina reasoned, while getting some yogurt to eat in the meantime. She would have to go food shopping later. They only had what they brought with them. 

Bob just stared at her for a moment before focusing back on the stove. "I know you're getting better at remembering. I just worry, you know that." 

She did know that. It's why she always apologized when it happened. Bob had enough to stress about at work, he didn't need to worry about his wife randomly passing out. 

Bob simply shakes his head, kissing Malina's forehead. He quickly plates her eggs, before making another round for himself. 

The husband and wife pair ate their breakfast in relative silence, just basking in the other's presence. The two didn't need to talk to simply be. 

Breakfast passed quickly, with Bob giving the dogs some good bye scratches and a kiss to Malina's lips, before he left for base. 

Mal fed the dogs their breakfast before deciding to shower up before heading out for the day. 

☽☆☾   ☽☆☾   ☽☆☾

"Attention on deck!" A voice calls out, prompting everyone to stand at attention. Admirals Warlock and Cyclone walk into the room, heading to the front podium. 

"Morning, welcome to your special training detachment," Warlock starts, "Be seated.

You're all Top Gun graduates, elite, the best of the best." 

Hangman has a toothpick in his mouth, smirking proudly at that. 

"That was yesterday," Warlock brings them all back to reality. Everyone's faces fall in realization of what he just said. 

"The enemy's new fifth generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success now more than ever comes down to the man or woman in the box," Warlock continues, making sure they all understand the severity of the situation. 

Hangman looks patronizingly over at Phoenix as he says this. And without missing a beat, she subtly scratches her face, giving him the middle finger. 

"Half of you will make the cut, one of you will be named mission leader." Hangman simply smirks at Rooster when the mission leader is mentioned. "The other half will remain in reserve."

Warlock continues looking out at the twelve pilots, "Your instructor is a Top Gun graduate with real world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary." 

Footsteps are heard as Maverick begins walking toward them from the back of the hanger. 

"He is considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced," Warlock continues his praise of Maverick. 

Everyone looks back at the man walking through the chairs.  Hangman, Coyote, and Payback all realize just who Maverick is. They sink in their chairs, finally realizing their instructor is the same man they threw out of the Hard Deck the night previous. (Heehee, oops.) 

"What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death," Warlock states in a serious tone. "I give you Captain Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick." 

Rooster glances at him before looking back down, jaw clenched in anger. 

Maverick stands at the podium Warlock just left, looking out at his students for the next few weeks. His eyes linger on Rooster before he composes himself and addresses the room. 

"Good morning," he begins. Hangman nodded with an embarrassed smile, as Maverick looked forward. Rooster looks away immediately, trying with everything in his power to not look Maverick in the eyes. 

"The F-18 NATOPS,'' he says, holding up the manual. "Contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft," he indicated to the Admirals. Patting the book, he continues, "I'm assuming you know the book inside and out." He knows, just as he was once a long time ago, that these pilots are the best and they know it. 

And the responses he gets back prove exactly that. 

"Damn right," Payback calls out. 

"Damn straight," Hangman, without hesitation. 

"You got it," Another one states. 

Maverick takes the book and throws it right into the trash. Everyone looks slightly shocked, checking around to make sure he just did that. 

"So does your enemy," Maverick says seriously. All he is trying to do is make sure these pilots, no matter how good they are, know that someone with superior technology is out there. 

"And we're off," Hondo whispers from the sidelines. 

"But what the enemy doesn't know is your limits," Maverick informs them all. "I intend to find them, test them, push beyond," he continues. "So today, we'll start with what you only think you know. You show me what you're made of." 

And with that, everyone gets ready to take to the air. 

☽☆☾   ☽☆☾   ☽☆☾

All day, Malina had gone about setting up everything they would need for the next few weeks. Food was bought, the last things were unpacked and the dogs had found a park to frolic in. (They were particularly happy about that.) 

She was in the kitchen, prepping dinner when Bob walked through the door. "Hey, Baby. How was the first day?" 

Bob just sighed before dropping into a seat at the table. 

Mal quickly goes over to him, rubbing his shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "That bad, huh?"

"There's not much I can tell you but it's not good. We haven't even been told the full parameters of this mission. Today was literally just for our instructor to see how we flew." 

He leaned back into his wife for a few moments before standing up to give her a proper greeting. "Hi sweetheart." Before dropping a kiss to her lips. 

Malina just hugged him a bit longer before letting go and heading back to the counter. "Well you can help me finish up dinner and then we can collapse with the dogs." 

Bob chuckles lightly. "Yes ma'am." He finishes chopping up the last of the food before Mal cooked it all up. He got the dogs' food together so they could all eat together. 

After eating the husband and wife took their dogs for a walk as they discussed their days. 

"Oh, I was wondering. Would it be possible for me to get on base and take some photos of the jets? I could work something out with the Navy for promotional work." 

Bob stops to think about it before Risky is pulling at his leash to get him moving again. "I'll have to talk to Cyclone about it. I'm not even sure if he can give you that approval, without the higher ups approval." 

Malina nodded, nudging Nala away from the flower she was about to eat. "I assumed as much. It's not like I'd be photographing classified aircrafts. But I'd be happy to provide some of my past work and references if needed." 

They rounded back to the house, getting the dogs back inside. 

"I'll be sure to ask him tomorrow. I can't promise anything though." 

Malina gave him a kiss to the cheek. "That's all I can ask for." 

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Word count: 1,675

I wanted to bring some awareness with Malina's character. Many members of my family have diabetes and it's not brought up enough in media, especially when a large amount of the US population has some form of it. My dad was diagnosed at 42, my aunt in her early 50s, grandparents (father's parents) both in their early to mid 60s, and my grandfather (mother's father) was pre-diabetic for the majority of my life until he passed when I was 17. Everyone is/was a Type 2, so no need for an insulin pump. Just a shot or 2 in the morning and at night. My father's father (my grandfather) passed away when I was 11 due to complications with diabetes, having been on dialysis for his kidneys for about 3 years prior to his passing. 

So I am very knowledgeable about the effects Type 2 diabetes can and will have on a person. I, myself, while not even in the pre-diabetic stage, am at high risk of developing it later on in life due to my genetic predisposition. HOWEVER, I am NOT an expert. This is all based on my own personal experiences. Also, no one in my family has had any sort of service animal. But I DO know someone with Type 2 that does have a service dog to help her with alerts. So I know it does happen. 

Also, here's my reminder that Malina is a freelance photographer, but again, I am not an expert. I'm going off of my own Photography experience, and I take a lot of photos both with my Nikon DSLR camera and my phone. 

But that's all for now, sorry for the super long A/N. See you next chapter!! Bye!!