Careless

Chapter 2

Maverick glared as the opposing plane flew towards him, quickly pulling up to try and avoid a head-on collision. He had already spent more than half of his time in Ukraine for his deployment with only half a month left and he was excited to return home, but whether that would be dead or alive was still to be determined. Currently it looked as though that might not be a possibility. At least not if he can't get this damn MiG off his fucking tail.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He shouted out as he barely missed an array of guns being fired at him from below. "Focus, Maverick. Focus." Taking a deep breath to ground himself, he almost shouted again but this time for a very different reason. There, just in front of him, was the nose of an opposing jet. Trying to escape was futile, Maverick knew that, but he tried anyway only to crash into the other jet. Both jets descended in a fiery display, both pilots trying to eject. Maverick tried to but the handle was stuck, and he was pulling and pulling, and he was getting closer and closer to the ground and-

The handle gave way, lifting Maverick out of the aircraft and launching into the air, his parachute deploying. Beginning the slow descend to the ground, Maverick groaned and allowed his head to flop forward, chin resting on his chest. Everything hurt. His vision was blurry. His body felt as if it were on fire. Landing ungracefully on the ground, Mav remained where he was, body too tired and too sore to move even a single muscle. Maybe I could have a little nap... yeah, that sounds good. Eyes drooping, Maverick gave one final struggle before they closed entirely, the man being rendered unconscious.

Back in California, everyone was panicking. Maverick's deployment was up, and they hadn't got word that he had died or that he had gone missing, so where was he? "Can't we send someone to find him?" Rooster suggested.

Warlock and Cyclone both looked as though they were about to shoot the idea down, but Admiral Tom "Iceman" Kazansky nodded. "Yes," he said, back straight. "Rooster, pick a wingman or wingmen. You will be going to Ukraine to retrieve Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell. You have until this afternoon, choose wisely." Iceman's eyes found Rooster's, the two both holding respect for each other. "Dismissed."

Rooster bowed his head before departing, min racing. He had permission to go find Mav, but who was he taking with him? Ice didn't exactly say he had to pick just one person... Fuck it, he might as well take the whole squad. At least, those who were on the mission. "Phoenix, Bob, Payback, Fanboy, Hangman. We're going to find Maverick and get him home." They all grinned, rushing to get their flight suits and ready themselves. They were going to bring their captain home, not matter what.

Maverick blinked awake, still on the ground with nothing but wasteland around him. Muscles groaning as he sat up, the man cursed when he noticed he was on his own with nothing to contact anyone. Great, he thought bitterly before standing, grunting when he put pressure on his leg. Well that's definitely broken. Maverick looked around, trying to find any sing of life other than himself but there was nothing around. Double great.

Hour passed and he had found himself a small place to hanker down in, trying to ignore the pain he was in. Shit, shit, shit... what the fuck do I do!? Taking a deep, painful breath, Maverick almost screamed when he felt a shooting pain go down his side. Shit! The man gritted his teeth, hand shooting to his side before his eyes widened when his hand grazed a piece of shrapnel protruding from his left abdomen, just below his ribs. Breathing becoming shallow, Maverick gulped down his fear and tried to stand only for his knees to buckle under him. I'm going to die here, aren't I?

In the air, Rooster was panicked. They were now in Ukraine air space, and it posed a major risk. Since Russia was quickly gaining control of the country, and its air space, it wouldn't be wise for the group of American naval pilots to hang around for longer than necessary. It was just a simple retrieval mission, a mission type they were well-versed in.

"Any sight of the captain?" Rooster asked over the comms, heart in his throat. They had been looking for fifteen minutes already, ad there was no sign of their beloved captain making the group start to believe that the worse had happened to him. I mean, Warlock and Cyclone weren't exactly expecting the man to return. At all.

"No," Phoenix replied back before gasping. "Hold on..." The comms were silent before Phoenix's voice broke through once more, a tone of excitement taking a hold of it. "I see him! At eight o'clock!" the others zeroed in on what Phoenix pointed out and cheered when they, too, recognised the figure on the ground as their captain.

Maverick squinted, looking above him form where he had huddled against a lone tree for cover and felt relief wash over him. he recognised those jets, but more importantly he recognised those helmets, those faces that peered down at him. Watching as one of the jets landed and the canopy opened, he could have cried out of relief when Rooster came rushing over to him, fussing over him much like his father had many, many years before.

"Mav!" the pilot exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug before guiding him back to the plane, helping him into the back seat. For a moment, Rooster was reminded of the mission a few months prior, how Maverick had berated him for saving his ass. Glancing back at the man who was slowly closing his eyes, clearly exhausted, Rooster smiled. Just a little bit longer, old man. Just a little bit longer. Taking off again, the group of naval aviators flew back in the direction of the carrier, Fanboy informing those in Lemoore of the captain's safe retrieval.