𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 | A Top Gun Fanfiction

Chapter 38: 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘳 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳

The letter Viper gave us detailed an estimate of how long we'd be away from Miramar. Three to four days minimum. Time to get packing. I learn quickly that the 'girl's over pack' stereotype is accurate. Vixen might've fit the bill better, being the fashionista she was. Two thirds of her closet went everywhere with her, even when all we wore for days on end was denim and white polyester. I rarely wear much beside my usual white tee or tank-top and a pair of jeans or jorts. Occasionally I'll have a band shirt on, or flannel in the fall, and more recently, a particular sweater of Maverick's that loves to find its way into my closet. Despite my simplistic style, the packing bug has still gotta hold of me. Just my luck, being a girl and all. Ghost and I agree to leave the reception two hours early. Our assignment has us en route to a carrier out in the mid-Atlantic first thing tomorrow morning. The half of the class that didn't receive a letter went off to the local bar to celebrate the night away. Merlin and Sundown tried to drag Iceman and Slider out with them, but Iceman laughed them off, boasting about the assignment and having to be 'responsible.' He must've sensed me glaring at the side of his face, 'cause he glanced over his shoulder and challenged my hard stare. Swimming in the cool bite of his gaze was the clear and cutting remark, 'at least I'm smart enough to not get drunk before a career making dogfight.'

I'm glad to leave.

We drop Maverick at his house to pack his things.

The plan is for him to ride his bike to Charlie's at the buttcrack of dawn and hop in Ghost's Jeep. Charlie will drive the three of us to the military base where we'll join Iceman, Slider, Hollywood, and Wolfman on one of the Navy's planes. From there we make the 14 hour flight to the carrier. None of us are looking forward to that. Thankfully, Charlie has an old walk-man and a couple tapes she's lent me so the flight won't be unbearable. After frantically packing and repacking my bag — organization is not my strong suit — I trotted upstairs to Ghost's room, letting her know to bring her favorite tapes.

She acknowledged me.

But it left me empty.

I waited outside her door for five whole minutes, warring with myself over how to mend the bond. A selfish voice inside me played defense, whispering reassurances that I've done nothing wrong, that she needs to forget Iceman and chose the right side. Team Seaside, as Maverick calls it. We had Ghost first, and we should get to keep her.

This constant battle with Iceman over who gets Ghost's loyalty is driving me insane. Can't she see Iceman hasn't changed? She sees his flaws, I remind myself. She gets upset with him...she forgives him though. One thing I can't seem to do. Is that really so bad? Plenty of people simply don't get along. If you asked me and Dash to make peace, I'd spit in your face and tell you to go to Hell before I sent you there myself. Dash and Ice aren't the same. They're both dickheads, yeah, but Iceman...loath as I am to say it, he's sometimes a nice guy. I mean, the one time I found him at the bar, and actually supported him in his pursuit of Ghost? Whatever possessed me to do that? A great load of good it's done us all. Regrets and doubts run laps around my head, eventually wearing me down to a pathetic, self-pitying nub that crawls out of Ghost's doorway and back down the stairs to the kitchen for a beer.

Charlie looks up from a book.

I freeze like a deer in headlights.

She raises a brow, and I know the jig is up.

"Charlie?" I ask sheepishly.

Pursing her lips, Charlie bookmarks her place and whips off her reading glasses. "Yes?"

I can't believe it's come to this.

"Uh, I think I screwed up."

I say it like it's the first time, but we both know I've suffered multiple screw ups throughout the last year. Charlie, God bless her, says nothing until we've both grabbed a beer from the fridge and hunkered down on the porch. Together we watch the sun sink below the distant ripple of the Pacific. I stare at the glimmer of the sea, slowly realizing that about this time tomorrow, I'll be watching the sunlight drown in another ocean. The Atlantic. I haven't seen it in years. As a kid I always wanted to visit Gulf Shores, along the southern tip of Alabama, but the farm couldn't spare us long enough to make the trip there and back. It's strange, I grew up closer to the Atlantic, but the Pacific...looking at it fills me, warms me head to toe with a feeling that makes me think of one word; home. Somehow, I've become a California Girl.