Below The Hard Deck | A Top Gun Fanfiction

CHAPTER XVI

To say that training today went horrible would be an understatement. I don't think it could've crashed and burned more if we tried, and it's only been a few days since Phoenix and Bob almost literally crashed and burned. As if the grounding of Maverick wasn't enough, Cyclone also announced new mission parameters. The speed and low-altitude flying me and Pete have spent the last few weeks training the pilots for is now replaced with a significantly slower approach at a higher altitude.

Despite all of the recruits probably thinking that their instructors had some screws loose when they heard the original framework, I know they have since come around to the fact that flying in fast and low, hitting the target, and getting the fuck out was the best chance they all had at survival. Now, with only a few days left before they get shipped out, they're being told to scrap everything they've been working on. Countless hours of instruction are now inadvertently labeled a waste of time. Add that on to a sudden change in leadership to get used to and, unsurprisingly, moral is not necessarily high.

With the new guidelines, all of the pilots were able to past the simulation with ease. Finally, after days of trying, they did it. I expected there to be celebration for finally jumping over that hurdle, but there was not even a smile. It's a bad sign when a person as cocky as Hangman doesn't take such an opportunity to gloat. Even though they were technically successful, I don't think it felt that way. Maybe they don't feel like they actually conquered the challenge and that the mission was just made easier because of their failure to complete it under the original perimeters. All I do know is that the group has taken ten steps back from where they once were, morally and in terms of preparation.

When I finally arrive back at my house, Maverick is waiting on the porch. I can't help but crack a small smile at the sight. "You can let yourself in," I jest. "You know where the key is."

"I have a feeling I'd end up plastered all over Nextdoor." As he stands, he reaches his arms into the air, twisting his back around to loosen it up. "Didn't want you to come back to ten messages about a 'suspicious man' breaking in."

"And sitting on the front steps is less conspicuous?" Mav rolls his eyes, playfully pinching my hip as I pass and causing me to jump. I swear I'm in love with a five year old.

"How'd it go?" Even though he is trying to keep the topic light, the pain in his tone is evident. "Did everything fall apart without me there."

I scoff, pushing open the door. "You have no idea." Tossing my keys onto the hall table, I make a quick beeline to the fridge to pull out two beers. "Cyclone changed the mission parameters."

"What?" By the tone of his voice, you'd think I just told him the sky was falling. It was a mixture of horror, shock, and nerves.

"That's what I said." I hand him a drink and move to the couch, flopping down with a groan. "Four minutes to target now and the pilots are entering the valley at less than 420 knots."

"That'll give the enemy more time to intercept." Maverick furrows his brow, playing with the bottle in his hand nervously as he sits next to me. His arm quickly finds its way around my shoulder, pulling me snug against his side.

I crack a smile at the sudden sense of déjà vu. "That's what Bob said. According to Cyclone, they have a better shot at survival against fifth generation fighters than the side of a mountain. They'll also be attacking level with the north wall instead of the low altitude."

"They'll be sitting ducks for enemy missiles." This time, Maverick speaks more so to himself than to me. "Besides, it'll be harder for them to focus their lasers."

"That's what Fanboy said." I sigh, nestling my head in the crook of my partner's neck. "Avoids the steep climb out at the end."

"They won't even get that far with those parameters." I can feel the tension in Pete's body grow. This mission was never going to be easy. Even if the pilots managed to complete the two miracles asked of them, they'd still have to manage to make their way back to the carrier. It is a tall order with the old requirements. With the new rules, it's all but an impossibility. "It's a suicide run."

"It's the textbook way to do it." As much as I want to place all the blame on Cyclone, it would be hypocritical of me. Had I been left to my own devices, the recruits probably would've been practicing the mission this way from the start. Maverick is the reason for the ambitious original plan and, though I wanted to call him crazy when he first proposed it, his reasoning spoke for itself. "You need to come back."

I hear him sigh. "Claddagh—"

"Pete," I sit up, turning my body so I'm facing him straight on, "you and I both know that, if the recruits do the mission Cyclone's way, they may destroy the enrichment plant, but they won't come home. Your mission plan is the best chance in hell they've got."

"It's not going to help them if they don't believe it's possible."

"Then we have to find a way to show them that it is!"

The room falls silent, allowing my words to truly sink in. There is a subtle shift in his behavior and, for a moment, it looks like I've gotten through to him. Just as quickly, however, he deflates once more. "Ice is gone, Lucky." His voice gets stuck in his throat as he shifts himself to mirror my position. "He was the only thing that kept me in as long as I was."

"No. That's what all the higher-ups want you to think. Tom may have had a lot if pull, but he by no means had all the power. Did Ice help keep you out of as much trouble as he could, yes. But, at any point, the Navy could've found a way to ground you if they really wanted to. You stayed in the air because they knew it would be idiotic to throw away a pilot of your caliber." Maverick starts to break away from my gaze, but I stop him by placing my hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me. "They kept you because they needed you." My thumb rubs softly against his cheek. "Our kids need you."

My partner swallows stiffly, emerald eyes full of emotion. Only after we got Nick's diagnosis thirty-so years go did I ever see him look as vulnerable, as child-like, as he does now. "I don't know what to do."

I give him a soft smile. "We have to come up with a way to get you back out there on our own."

"We?" I nod. "No. If I do something, I'm not taking you down with me."

"Is the word 'team' somehow foreign to you? You're struggles are my struggles and vice versa. If you're doing this, I'm going to be by your side."

He glances at me out of the side of his eyes. "You're not going to give up on this, are you?" Upon seeing me smirk, Maverick sighs in an overdramatic fashion and throws his arms up in defeat. "Fine, but only because I know you'll find a way to get involved anyway."

"That's part of being a couple, Pete." I lean my forehead against his. "For better or for worse, to love and to cherish always."

A big grin spreads across Mav's face and, for a moment, I believe he's about to respond with something equally as heartfelt. You'd think by now I'd know better. "I don't recall ever agreeing to sharing your burdens."

Even though I roll my eyes, I can't hold back my own amusement at his words. "You don't have a romantic bone in your body, do you?"

"You don't think so?" He suddenly grabs my hand, dramatically placing his free palm over his heart. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often his gold complexion dim; and every fair from fair declines, by chance or nature's changing course, untrimmed. But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor loose possession of that fair thou ow'st, nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, when in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, so long live this, and this gives love to thee." He releases my hand once more, leaning back into the couch in a way that showcases his pride in himself. "You were saying?"

"Shakespeare, huh?" He nods, smirk growing on his face. "You realize that monologue comes from a play about a three day old relationship between two kids that ends up causing six deaths, right?"

"Come on, Claddagh. How many men in your life have recited ancient poetry to you?"

"That was impressive." Before he can peacock any further, I continue. "But can you tell me what everything you just said means in modern English?"

Never before has a person's face dropped so quickly.