Careless

Chapter 3

Returning to Lemoore it was clear that something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Maverick had been silent the whole plane ride home and the squadron had put it down to exhaustion, but when they landed – with Rooster and Maverick being the last to land – and everyone had exited their aircrafts, but Maverick remained, and it was clear something wasn't right.

Rooster sat, knelt atop the wing, as he scanned the man over. He was pale, and he was still unconscious, but he was breathing. Looking over him again, the pilot felt his heart stutter to a stop when his dark brown eyes zeroed in on the shrapnel protruding from the captain's left abdomen, just below his ribs. Shit!

"Medics!" Called Rooster over his shoulder, left hand going to Maverick's neck and keeping track of his pulse while his right kept him steady on the wing. "We need medics over here!" Turning back to his surrogate father, Rooster swallowed back his tears. "Stay with me Mav, please stay with me." Maverick gave no response.

Soon enough the medics arrived, extracting Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell from the plane, the shrapnel evident to everybody as he was loaded onto a stretcher, pale and breathing shallow. The squadron watched as he was carried to the medical wing, their fear, concern, and panic being radiated by the admirals just behind them.

It had been a couple of hours since Maverick was taken into surgery, and no one had received any news. Bob huffed as he collapsed into a chair in the waiting room, eyes red from exhaustion. "We should sleep," he mumbled when the others turned to him. Rooster was about to say something but one glare from the weapons system operator shut him right up. Staying quite for a moment, the group finally agreed and headed back to their rooms on-base, hitting the showers, and heading to bed soon after. In hindsight, they should have stayed in that waiting room.

Admiral Tom "Iceman" Kazansky entered the waiting room of the medical wing, noticing that Mav's kids weren't there. They must have gone back to their rooms to sleep, he thought as he sat down in a chair. It was only twenty minutes later when a solemn looking doctor came out, making eye contact with the admiral who had stood up, beginning to shake his head as tears sprung to his eyes. "I'm sorry, sir," he bowed his head, motioning him to follow the man into the room where Maverick ahd been placed. Upon entering, the doctor smirked. "But you're going ot have to deal with him for a little while longer yet."

"Oh thank god," Ice chuckled, hand flying to his heart as the doctor merely chuckled, patting the admiral on the shoulder and exiting the room. Sitting in the seat next to Mav's bed, Ice shook his head. "You're an idiot, and you're careless, Mav... God, I'm glad you're okay. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, or if those kids had lost the man they looked to as a father. You matter to them, Pete, and you matter to me."

Hours passed and soon Maverick was waking up, still slightly groggy but almost fully aware. "Ice...?"

"Hey," he smiled softly, giving the man's hand a squeeze. "You alright?" Mav merely groaned, running a hand down his face, hissing when he touched a rather sore part of it. "What happened, Mav?"

"Crashed with an enemy plane," he mumbled into his hand. "Didn't move and we fell. Ejected a little too late and got hurt. Kids found me eventually and now I'm here."

Iceman sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "You know people run away from this line between life and death, but you?" He shook his head, icy-blue eyes connecting with green. "You seem to stand on it and wait for a strong wind to sway you one way or the other."

"So?" Maverick shrugged, glancing at him before looking at the ceiling again.

Iceman scoffed, shaking his head before leaning forward, looking pointedly at the pilot in the hospital bed. "You're careless with your life." He said softly, calmly. "You're not slitting your wrist, but you're careless." Mav huffed, ignoring him. Nodding, Ice stood and left the room, noticing the kids looking slightly shocked and hurt. Must have heard the conversation.

Glancing back into the room where Maverick lay, Ice looked back to the kids and noticed how they were antsy to get to their captain's side – their father's side. Stepping away from the door, he watched them salute him as they stepped into the room. Ice watched them all with a soft smile. Maybe he can get better with the kids help. They're good kids, they'll help him, and he'll accept it. I know he will.

It had taken about a year or so for Maverick to fully heal, but he was finally there. The squad had helped a lot, with his injuries and his mental health. The man, when he did fly (which was becoming a rarity after the mission had rendered him almost dead), flew with caution. It wasn't the caution he flew with after Goose's death. No, this was a better type of caution, one that shone through even during his 'old style' flying, as Coyote had lovingly put it one day.

Sure, it had been a rough year, but they were all going through it together and they had all gotten closer. In fact, they had grown into a family – a proper family, with their captain at the heart of it. No longer was Captain Pete Maverick Mitchell the careless pilot he once was, but a more cautious one for the better.