𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

↳ 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬
'the resolution of all
the fruitless searches'

━━ 𓄼 𓄹 ━━

MIRAMAR NAVAL AIR STATION

HE FOUND BRADLEY alone in one of the instruction rooms. Sitting amongst empty chairs, his head was in his hands. As the door clicked shut behind Pete, the noise was near deafening against the silence. No getting out of this now.

"They'll keep Berlin and Fritz in the hospital overnight for observation," Pete told him as he strode into the room. "But they're going to be okay."

This was the last thing they needed now. None of his pilots would believe this mission was even possible, least of all Cameron Mejia. The Navy had never promised them safety, but he had made the silent vow to himself that this would not be a sacrificial mission. And yet, here they were.

Bradley didn't bother to hide his relief. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and said, "I've never lost a wingman. In combat, off a carrier, never."

"You've been lucky. Fly long enough, it'll happen. There will be others," Mav warned.

"Easy for you to say," Bradley said bitterly. "No kids, no family. No one to mourn you when you burn in."

He let the blow roll off of him. "I know you were worried about them, but that's no reason to take it out on me."

Bradley's face contorted with worry and rage. "She could have died, Maverick."

He narrowed his eyes momentarily, but then it all made sense. Suddenly, he understood the missing piece of this story. Bradley had lashed out completely after his rejection from the Naval Academy. It hurt like hell to watch everything crumble around the kid, his godson, and be unable to say a word. He had made Bradley's mother a promise a long time ago that he wouldn't let him go to the academy for the sake of his safety. It had been his final act of apology to Carol to let Bradley go on believing that it had only ever been Maverick at fault.

But this, this was a different kind of anger. A protective kind. Bradley was in love with Cameron, it was written over and between every word. The two of them had had some kind of falling out years ago and Pete realized now that it had been connected to the academy rejection. Yet another thing that Bradley could blame him for. Even more lost time.

There was nothing Pete could say now, though. "She could have, but she didn't. Go home, Bradley. Get some sleep."

He turned to leave, but Bradley stood and stopped him. "Why did you pull my papers at the academy? Why did you stand in my way?"

The words stung them both. For a second, Pete floundered for a response. If there was ever a time, it would be now. The truth might salvage this. It might allow them to start over.

But that was not the promise he had made.

"You weren't ready," Pete told him.

"Ready for what? Ready to fly like you?"

"No, ready to forget the book. Trust your instincts. Don't think. Just do," he spat. "You think up there, you're dead. Believe me."

A terrible, wry smile split Bradley's lips. "My dad believed in you. I'm not gonna make the same mistake."

The unshakable Maverick. Some kind of faded glory figure. A hero. All things that had never felt further from the truth as Bradley shoved the door open and left him standing there alone.

For years, Pete had kept track of Bradley's progress from the shadows. He checked in on Alayna and Theo Bradshaw often, peppering them with questions about their nephew. He tried every manner of contacting Bradley including sending paper mail. It was absolute radio silence. Bradley assumed Maverick didn't care, and maybe it was true that he hadn't put the time in when it mattered most. However, Bradley was wrong to think that he had ever given up on him.

There were tens of pictures lining the walls of the room, but he focused only on one. TOP GUN 1986. The two black and white figures in the front stared back out at him, Goose and Maverick. It had been taken at the beginning of their training before the crash.

He had accepted the truth a long time ago, accepting his due blame for Goose's death. Carol never blamed him. No one really did, it was an accident. Still, he was the one calling the shots up in the air. He was the one who had walked out alive. It had taken years before he even thought of forgiving himself.

In the past few weeks, he had been forced to remember everything. Cameron Mejia, one of the most talented pilots the Navy currently had, was reckoning with the same demons that had haunted him for years. They were pale ghosts now, but it was still difficult, especially knowing how desperately broken his relationship with Bradley had become.

Pete lifted a sleeve to clean the dust from the frame. Into the silence of the room, he said, "I'm sorry, Goose. I let you down."

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Warlock appeared in the now-open doorway. "Maverick."

He sighed. "Whatever you've got for me, can it wait–?"

Warlock just shook his head and Pete finally registered what was happening before the words were out of his mouth. "It's Iceman. He's gone."

𓄼 𓄹

THE doors to the infirmary swung open again, and Cam half expected to see Maverick finally coming to talk to her. When she looked up, she was met instead by the face of Bradley Bradshaw.

Cam stood. "How did you get in here–?" she began, but all the words died when he strode forward and engulfed her in her arms. She relaxed into his hold and all of a sudden the tears made their appearance.

"How are you doing?" he asked, pulling back. His eyes darted over her, looking for any visible signs of distress. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "Just bruises."

Gently, he guided her to sit back down. Then he pulled up his own chair so they were sitting facing each other. "How's Fritz?"

"I-well," she hesitated. "He's fine."

"You don't sound so sure."

She had yet to meet his eyes, flustered. "Yeah? Well, I almost killed him today."

"It was a bird, Cam. Not your fault."

She shook her head and wiped at her eyes angrily. "If I would have reacted faster, I might have been able to save the engine before it even caught on fire."

"That's a pretty big if. Don't do that to yourself."

"All I could see was the ocean." Her stare went blank. "I could taste salt water. Fritz said I was yelling for Kit, I kept calling him Nikita over and over. I don't even remember how we got back to base."

He didn't know what to say. "You did what you could. Both times."

"I never told you about my first close call." She smiled a little, only because otherwise the tears would never stop if she didn't.

"What, the day you clipped a cargo container with a practice plane's landing gear?"

Cam laughed. "No, not that one. That was the day they started calling me Berlin. I was so embarrassed. I went back into the hangar and they were already laughing about how the Germans should have hired me to take their wall down for them."

Bradley laughed too. "Then tell me about the real first one."

"There was one time, not combat, but one night trying to land on the boat. I nearly killed myself and my old WSO on a bad landing. After I landed on the next try, I went to our Commanding Officer in his stateroom. I told him, I think I might be in the wrong business. I put my wings down on the table and he pushed them back to me and told me to sleep on it and see him the next day. I slept on it, changed my mind, and was back on the flight schedule the next day. Like they say, when you fall off a horse, just get right back on it."

"But?" Bradley coaxed.

"But then after Nikita was gone, nothing ever felt right again. There is no getting back on the horse after a loss like that. Every little thing I do keeps pointing to the fact that it's time."

"Time?" he repeated, hanging on to her every word.

"Time to call it quits. If I wasn't successful here, Mendez said I would be permanently grounded. They won't send me back to Whiting Field, Bradley. I'll be discharged." She stared up at the fluorescent lights. "This mission can't be flown, anyway. Even if it were possible, it seems like everything that fate can throw at it has already stood in its way. Fritz and I got into it just before you came in here."

"It's going around," Bradley muttered.

She stared at him. "Did you have a fight with Maverick?"

He blinked and rolled his shoulders back. "How can you tell?"

She shrugged and leaned against the wall. "It was bound to happen eventually."

"It was bad, Cam. Really bad."

"Did you lie to him? Did you tell him things that weren't true?"

His brow furrowed. "No, I told him exactly what I was thinking."

"Then you did the right thing. For both of your sakes. This game has gone on long enough, I'd say. The first step to reuniting is getting the anger out."

"Reuniting?" He repeated with a scoff. "Reuniting my ass. Even if I did forgive him, what I said in there burned whatever was left of a bridge."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Forgive him?"

Bradley opened and shut his mouth, searching for the answer. Pride was never an easy thing to drown out. "It made it easier to have someone to blame. Almost like havin' an excuse for everything I did after the fact. But now? I think for the first time in my life I've realized that he's still just a person, at the end of the day. Not some unbreakable hero. I've never–" he shook his head "–I've never seen him look as hurt as he did today when I was yelling at him."

Cam reached out and pressed a hand to his cheek. "The two of you are making this way more difficult than it has to be."

"Yeah?" he sighed, lifting a hand to rest on hers. "We can't save anything now."

"You might be surprised."

The doors swung open again, and Cam let her hand drop as Natasha Trace burst into the room. Stray flyaways of dark hair were coming loose from her bun.

"Cam," she smiled, relieved. She looked between Cam and Bradley a little too knowingly. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Cam thought of Fritz in the room beyond and her stomach knotted. "Me too."

"I just came to check in, and to tell you the news. It's blowing around base like wildfire but I assumed it hadn't gotten to you guys yet."

Cam frowned and her heart sped up. "What happened?"

"It's Admiral Kazansky. He's had cancer for a long time, and he passed away today. They just got word about it an hour ago."

"Oh man," Bradley moaned, putting his head in his hands. "I'm going to hell."

Natasha just stared at him. "Well as far as I know, you didn't kill the guy, so I think you'll be alright?"

Cam shook her head. "No, he got into it with Mav just a bit ago."

Natasha winced. "Kazansky and Mav were–"

"–best friends," Bradley finished. He stood in a rush. "I gotta go try to find him."

"I already saw him leave," Natasha told him regretfully.

So the three of them remained in the room in silence with a hundred unasked questions. What will happen now?

The next day, she stood in full service dress uniform between Fritz and Natasha. All of the Top Gun recruits had been required to attend the funeral, and they all stood in a neat row near the front. Fritz wasn't speaking to her and he hadn't all day so when she risked a quick glance at him she was unsurprised that he remained facing forward.

Pete Mitchell looked impossibly small as he gave his eulogy. Cam comprehended none of it, but her hand felt the ache as his fist hammered the pin into the coffin. Another tear tracked down her cheek at the memory of doing the same thing for Nikita. For all the days that had passed, the scene still felt so familiar. Nikita's funeral had been far smaller but still it was all largely the same.

As soon as the crowd began to disperse, Cam pushed her way through. To get away from all this grief. It was clinging to her dress uniform, weighing down on her shoulders. She made it all the way to a grassy hill before she stopped and stared off at the blue shadows of the distant mountains.

It was true. Everything Fritz had said yesterday was the truth. All of her regret, her anger, her grief, she had turned into a kind of weapon to yield. It was something that could be controlled. Isolation was her choice, within her power.

Almost like havin' an excuse for everything I did after the fact.

She had never been bitter or difficult to get along with, and yet those were now the only words that scattered her performance reviews. There was so much collateral damage in her wake and suddenly it all seemed much more real. So many things were still within her control. She still had choices, and she was tired of making the wrong ones.

She turned back around and saw Maverick speaking to an unfamiliar officer. He patted the man on the back with a strained smile. When he turned, he met Cam's eyes and surprised her by beginning to walk towards her.

"I never had the chance to come see you yesterday," he told her, almost as if he were apologizing.

She gave a small laugh of disbelief. That all felt impossibly far away now. "I'm so sorry, Mav," Cam told him quietly.

He nodded. His eyes were rimmed red. "I knew it was coming. Didn't want to believe it, though."

She tried for a smile. "Doesn't make it any easier."

"No," he agreed. "It doesn't."

They stood in silence a few moments longer, watching as people began to filter out of the cemetery. It was a remarkably beautiful day. Not a cloud in the wide blue sky.

"Cam, I know this isn't the time nor the place, but I might not have a chance to really talk to you again about the mission."

"Are they removing you?" she asked bluntly.

"Most likely. I'll try and talk 'em out of it like I usually do, but after what happened yesterday and now this–" he rubbed a hand across his jaw –"they have more than enough reason to let me go."

"None of it was your fault."

He gave her an incredibly sad smile. "It never is. Regardless of what happens, you've got a choice to make, kid. All in or all out, no more sitting on the fence. There's nothing wrong with either choice, but you need to decide once and for all what it is that you want out of this."

She blinked. She wanted to protest, to save face, but she realized then how pointless that would be. There was nothing left now but resolve. If Fritz could forgive her, she knew what her answer was.

"I know," she told him.

He clapped her on the shoulder in way of goodbye, but Cam made the last second decision to engulf him in a hug. He let out a grunt of surprise before relenting.

"Thank you," she told him, tears filling her eyes again. "For giving me my second chance."

He laughed now. "I didn't give you anything, Cam. You did all that on your own."

𓄼 𓄹

"CAPTAIN MITCHELL is no longer your instructor."

The news hit like a deafening blow across the room. Cam turned to clock Bradley's reaction and watched as he put his head in his hands. Iceman was gone, right after Bradley had tore a new one into Pete Mitchell. And now this. She knew the guilt was eating him alive.

"And as of today," Cyclone continued, "there are new mission parameters. Time to target is now four minutes." The screen behind him beeped, displaying the new route. "You'll be entering the valley level at reduced speed, not to exceed 420 knots."

Bob finally spoke up, saying what they were all thinking. "Sir, won't we be giving their planes time to intercept?"

"Well, lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft," Cyclone told him, his tone nearly disparaging. "What are the odds of surviving a head-on collision with a mountain?"

In the front, Hangman let out a low whistle.

Cyclone appeared mildly irritated by their lack of enthusiasm for his new genius plan. "You'll be attacking the target from a higher altitude, level with the north wall. Gonna be a little harder to keep your laser on target, but you will avoid the high-G climb out."

Cam frowned. "We'll be sitting ducks for enemy missiles. This is ridiculous."

Before Cyclone could light into her about calling a direct order ridiculous, the radar monitor on the screen behind him began to beep.

The Vice Admiral frowned. "Who the hell is that?"

A voice crackled to life on the radio. "Maverick to range control. Entering point Alpha. Confirm green range."

Noise erupted all around as Maverick argued with air traffic control. Cyclone looked livid, Hondo somewhere between elated and relieved. Cam had to fight the giddy laugh in her throat.

Phoenix grinned widely and said, "Nice."

Hondo managed to get the screens in the tactical auditorium to display the route of Maverick's plane.

"Setting time to target: Two minutes 15 seconds," Maverick said.

"2:15?" Reuben balked. "That's impossible."

Cam followed Maverick's progress on the screen. The jet was dipping dangerously low, skimming right above the riverbed floor. The timer counted on.

"Final attack point. Maverick's inbound."

And then came the final narrow notch in the canyon, the final ridge gap that had hindered Rooster. Suddenly, Maverick's altitude began to climb again.

Coyote groaned with disbelief. "He's backing off." To Hangman, he said, "Nobody can do it. Nobody."

There were reactions of disappointment from all but two of them. Cam and Bradley both leaned closer to the radio, still waiting for Maverick to pull off the impossible. Because for every terrible word that had ever been said about Maverick's pride, the man had almost always been able to back it up with following through.

"Hold on," Cam said. "What's he doing now?"

Cyclone didn't care. "Tell the tower to order that man to land that aircraft," he shouted, spit flying with his words. "Now."

Hondo snapped out of the trance they were all in and reached for the phone connected to the radio.

Cam held out a hand. "He's diving again. He's less than a hundred feet off the deck," she marveled.

Hondo let the phone drop, much to Cyclone's chagrin.

Maverick's voice came over the radio again. "Popping in three... two... one." And then, "Bombs away."

"Bullseye!" Fanboy exclaimed. "Holy shit, bullseye!"

The room erupted in cheers. Cyclone stalked away immediately, livid.

Bob let out a whoop. "Yes! Two minutes fifteen. To the second."

"Cyclone has two choices now," Cam said, speaking only to Fritz. "Risk the success of the mission by sending us without Mav, or risk his career by appointing him team leader."

"Cyclone seems like the gambling type," Fritz said, grinning. "I guess this might all work out after all."

She turned to face him, all at once remembering that they hadn't spoken to each other at all since their argument. "Fritz," she began. "We have a real chance of doing this mission."

He nodded. "I know."

"Everything you said yesterday was right. You were so right," she told him. Around them, everyone was still marveling at Maverick's stunt. "You've been right this whole time. I've been hiding from myself ever since I ran away to Florida."

"Terrible choice in location, might I add," he told her smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "Luckily, it won't be happening again. What I'm trying to say is if Maverick is miraculously not court-martialed, and we're picked for the mission, I want you to be able to trust me."

"You're assuming I would fly the mission at all," he said, brow raised.

"It's a big assumption," she agreed. What confidence she had left in herself finally broke through the surface. "But I can't do it alone, and I'll be damned if I'm not allowed to fly tonight."

"Finally," he said, grinning. "You're back."

"I am," she agreed. No more sitting on the fence. "So, what do you think?"

"Well, I think you're terrible at motivational apology speeches," he told her. "But lucky for you, I didn't even really need one. I do trust you, Cam, maybe I didn't before," he admitted before meeting her eyes. "But I do now."

The two of them had always been a sort of dream team. From the moment they had been assigned the same aircraft years ago, something immediately clicked. Fritz's level-headed charm combined with Cam's abrasive surety had been a force to reckon with.

"Thank you."

He laughed a little, puzzled. "For what?"

"For not giving up on me."

No more half in and half out. Like a rising sun the flame was lit in her chest again, the same one that had begun to burn when she was sixteen and watching that plane roar above the desert sands. The life, the one she thought could never be hers again, was thrust into her grasp.

And this time, she was ready.

𓄼 𓄹

USS THEODORE ROOSEVELT
Undisclosed Location

AFTER Maverick's stunt, things had moved incredibly quickly.

Cyclone had been forced to rescind his earlier statements about Maverick and inform all of them that not only was he back on, but he would be leading the mission himself. By nightfall they were all standing in the ready room of the hulking aircraft carrier. Ocean waves thrummed. In the chaos of it all, the teams still hadn't even been picked. Part of Bradley couldn't believe they were here at all. Part of him knew this was always how it was going to end.

Warlock was at the head of the room, finishing his rundown of the mission objective. By now, they could all probably repeat it verbatim. "Once the F-18 strike team crosses the border, Tomahawk Missiles from the USS Leyte Gulf will be launched in a synchronized strike on the enemy's airfield. The moment those Tomahawks hit, the enemy will know you're coming."

Cyclone nodded as he finished. "Maverick, choose your two foxtrot teams."

Maverick stepped forward.  "It has been an honor flying with you. Each one of you represents the best of the best. This is a very specific mission, and my choice is a reflection of that and nothing more."  He paused briefly.  "Phoenix and Bob," Maverick said before turning towards Cam with a brief grin. "Berlin and Fritz."

Fritz punched Cam in the shoulder a little too hard.

"Ow," she hissed at him.

"Sorry."

Cam was grinning too widely to really care. Bradley was glad to see that she and Fritz had made up, though he knew they would.

"And your wing man," Cyclone continued.

Everyone held their breath. Discreetly, Cam took Bradley's hand in hers and gave it a quick squeeze of reassurance. Maverick's gaze swung across the room, flitting over Hangman before settling on his final choice.

"Rooster."

It was difficult to say who was most surprised. Hangman whipped around, face flooded with disbelief. Bradley tried to keep his expression neutral but it was damn near impossible. The last thing he had said to Maverick was a terrible, horrible thing. Was he forgiven? Was Maverick actually able to remove their personal conflict from this mission?

Neither option seemed likely.

"The rest of you will stand by on the carrier for any reserve role that's required," Warlock told them.

Cyclone nodded. "This is what you've all been training for. Come home safely. Good luck to you all. Dismissed."

It was another ballet of controlled chaos as the flight deck crews prepped the four F-18s. In the early light of dawn, Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Berlin, and Fritz stepped onto the deck. For real this time. No longer for the consequence of 200 push ups, but rather for the consequence of death.

As Bradley walked past Hangman, the blond met his eyes and nodded. "Give 'em hell, Rooster."

Then out there on the deck, Bradley spotted Maverick's silhouette as he stood next to his F-18. All the words he had thought about saying before they left caught in his throat.

Cam, who was still walking next to him, looked back and forth between the two men and caught on immediately. "Bradley, you gotta go say something to him," she said sternly.

"What can I possibly say to him now?"

"Sorry might be good," she quipped. "There are no guarantees today."

He stopped and looked at her. Really looked at her. "You think I don't know that?" he said softly.

Her voice caught in her throat and she looked away. "Bradley, c'mon, we don't have to do this."

He shook his head. "There's a very real chance that not everyone is coming back today."

She refused to meet his eyes. "I'm not saying goodbye to you. This isn't the end." It was as if her saying it would make it real; they both knew it still might be a lie.

"Then don't say goodbye," he relented. Before she could do or say anything else, he wrapped both his arms around her. "See you later, Cam," he whispered in her ear.

She held onto him tightly. "See you later," she repeated.

He held onto her a second longer before finally letting her go. This is not the end, he reminded himself. This will not be the end.

As she walked off to meet Fritz, she glanced one more time over her shoulder. "Go talk to him!" she shouted over the growing roar of the jet engines.

He would never forgive himself if he didn't so he risked jogging over to where Pete Mitchell still stood. "Maverick!" he called out.

The captain turned, surprised. "Rooster?"

Bradley cleared his throat. " Sir, I–I just want to say that I'm sorry."

A voice crackled over the flight deck speaker. "Start the go aircraft. Start 'em up."

"I know you are, kid. We'll talk when we get back."

Bradley nodded as the reality of it all crashed in. He was the wingman now. No room for error. As he walked away towards his waiting jet, he heard Maverick call out to him again.

"Hey Bradley! You've got this!"

Bradley smiled despite himself. Suddenly, he was a teenager again, going up in a plane for the first time with Maverick in the co-pilot's seat. He barely trusted himself then, but he trusted himself now.

This time, he was ready.

━━ 𓄼 𓄹 ━━

a/n do I ever love a good poetic parallel between main characters!!

this chapter ties up a lot of the tensions that have driven this story: the obvious ones surrounding pete and bradley ofc, but also the one around fritz and cam.  the growth and self realization journey of this fic is one of my favorites to write

anyway, you might be wondering why I stopped updating this fic!  I have realized now that it would be silly to leave this unfinished, as I already had it all plotted out to the end.  A chapter (?) more and an epilogue and then this story will be complete!

So curious to see if anyone is still reading this fic, so please please leave comments!  

-- Nat <3