𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 | A Top Gun Fanfiction

Chapter 34: 𝘎𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘫𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘰𝘮

Too much is changing, and too fast. On the turn of a dime, we lose Goose, we bury him, we attend a hearing in accordance with his death, and Carol moves away. Just like that, we're supposed to shrug our shoulders and get on with it? I guess in taking each day at a time, I've refused to so much as look a couple hours ahead of me for fear of my whole entity having a system failure and consequent shut down. We've been full steam ahead four days in a row, and already the wear and tear of this non-stop lifestyle can be felt. It's like the powers that be have plucked the skin right off my bones, coiled it around the Earth a couple of times and then stuck it back on. It's all stretched out; droopy in some places, tight in others. I'm about to snap. Worse, I'm terrified it'll be like Maverick's breakdown the other day...I'll lose my shit and yell at someone, Ghost probably, and I'll hurt her feelings and make her cry and then she'll run into Iceman's arms and he'll hold a gun to my head with that stare of his. What if I just cry? What if Slider mentions Goose, and I shatter into a million pieces in front of my coworkers, my fellow servicemen — oh Lord, in front of my commanders...

Today is the day we test our limits.

Today is the return to Top Gun.

A new Top Gun. A darker, quieter Top Gun.

A Gooseless Top Gun.

"Is Maverick coming to get you?"

Ghost keeps her voice down, afraid to startle me. Poor thing's been walking on eggshells since last night, astute enough to perceive my fragile state of mind.

"Yeah," I mumble as I crush my oatmeal under the hull of my spoon. "I asked him to...so I could make sure he shows up."

"Good thinking."

"You're rubbing off on me."

Ghost smiles through a mouthful of oatmeal, "You flatter me, Stirrups. But I'm not the brilliant strategist, that would be you."

"Brilliant's a strong word."

"You're a strong person," She counters, "I'd say they balance each other out."

Grinning, I pluck a blueberry from my bowl. Charlie ran out ahead of us. We hardly got to say good morning, but I understand the rush. Unlike Maverick, Ghost, and I, who've been alternating between ugly-ass sobbing and lethargy as a coping mechanism, Charlie, ever the mature one, has thrown herself fulltime into her work. Aside from events like the funeral, or helping Carol pack, Charlie's been in and out, filing, planning lectures, reviewing flight sheets and dogfight footage. Although I miss her company and wish she'd cut herself some slack, I know that this is her way of dealing with grief. Before I came, and Goose and Maverick, the miscreants in her class, became heavily involved in her life, Charlie's whole purpose was work. We haven't talked too much about guys, aside from Maverick, or more recently, Iceman, now that he and Ghost are finally seeing each other. I've not heard much from Charlie about her love life, whether she's ever had one or will. But I assume she's put a lot of that on hold for her career and I get that, it just...feels like she's been drowning herself in files so she doesn't have to see the world around her.

A Gooseless world.

The idea of a world being less of itself in the eternal absence of a person haunts me over breakfast. It isn't until there's a knock at the door that I have any hope of shaking the thought from my head. The moment Maverick's lips meet mine, the world is a little less Gooseless and a little more full. Of what? Maverick? Love? Hope? Perhaps all three. I savor the warmth they emit, cradling them between my hands and rolling it around my palms. The heat travels aimlessly, ending up under curled toes as I wave Ghost goodbye and hop on the back of Maverick's bike. He frees an arm from the handlebar and slots it along the slope of my forearm as he squeezes my hand. One handed, he steers us from the curb and puts the pedal to the metal. We go flying, and I squeeze the hand interlocked with mine, an anxious, 'please drive with both hands, honey,' that I'd expect from my mother, not me, the fighter pilot. I guess for all I've been through, my opinion on safety measures has...shall we say...transformed.