Born To Die

VII: Home

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Home

Rose was born during a sunset.

The minute his newborn daughter was placed in his arms, Tom Kazansky was terrified and even more terrified to let it show. The first night they took her home, he slept on the floor by her crib to watch over her. After getting over the initial fear that he would drop her, he carried her around everywhere. He did not let her out of his sight. He couldn't bare the thought of her getting hurt.

Iceman had no idea how to be a father. His own was never around. Looking back on his youth, he realized that his drive to be flawless — perfect in every way — was likely from that, so he worked hard. The obsession with perfection was what made him so cold, so he swore he would never let that happen to his daughter.

For all his promises, Rose was still determined to end up just like him.

Nature versus nurture.

Was she born to be a pilot?

From the very beginning, she loved flying. They had nearly lost Rose around the seventh month. She was born sick, prone to any and all illnesses, born too early with lungs that hadn't fully developed. But she was a fighter, and she was strong. She didn't remember it now, but she lived in pain and misery for those first two years. In pain, she would cry and cry until the only thing that could make her feel better was flying. Iceman would pick her up, lift her over his head, and cruise her around until her cheeks were rosy with joy. Even after she grew healthy, and the hospital visits grew scarce, he kept doing it.

Maybe Rose Kazansky was born to be a pilot.

Sunrises and sunsets belonged to Iceman and his daughter ever since that perfect minute she was born. They would watch the sun hover between the sea and the sky, seemingly slowing the world down for just a moment. Rose somehow knew it would be so much prettier up in the sky. There was nothing she wanted more in the world.

The decision was made.

Eventually, Rose went home.

The old house looked just like she had left it. Years later, she almost forgot what it was like to have a home. For a long time, she had never stayed rooted in one spot because she liked the adventure. Because she liked the independence. Because she was terrified of slowing down long enough to realize that she was incapable of making a home alone. She missed having a home.

She had only been planning on staying in her little, blue beach house for the duration of her work at North Island, but a deep and unconscious part of her heart was drawing her in, begging her to stay. The Kazansky house and Maverick's hangar in Mojave were the most permanent places in her life. Her father's house hadn't changed at all, and she knew if she walked through the door, turned right, and went upstairs, she would find her bedroom just the same. Cream-colored walls. A blue flower quilted bedspread. Rows of books. White fairy lights. A polaroid wall of some of her most cherished memories.

It was like stepping back in time. Everything was the same, except the people.

Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky was in his study when she walked through the door. Her father straightened up when he heard her approach, stifling the strained coughs that escaped his lips. She stood awkwardly in the entryway.

"Hey, Dad."

Iceman was taken aback by her presence, as well as her words. His daughter hadn't called him that in a very long time. He was confused, but he somehow still instantly understood her. She didn't want to talk about it. He should've gotten that better than anyone. Warmth spread through her chest at her father's expression; perhaps her presence was doing more good than bad. After all, this was still her home.

"How's the admiral?" Rose questioned despite knowing she wouldn't be getting much of a verbal response.

With a faint smile, he shrugged once. When she walked closer, she found that he looked very tired. There was something different about him that night. Something that she couldn't put her finger on exactly. His fingers moved over the keyboard as he typed across the black screen.

"How was it?"

Rose's lips were parting to speak when Iceman's brows furrowed. Her confused expression mimicked his own before he stepped closer and lightly touched her hand.

"What?" Rose questioned.

Her confusion ebbed as her embarrassment flowed. Rose's cheeks bloomed with a berry hue as she glanced at the patches of dark bruising across her knuckles. Her lips pursed in annoyance and hesitation.

"It's nothing," she brushed his concern aside and gently took her hand from his grasp

"What happened?"

"Come on, Ice, I said it's nothing," she sighed dismissively, "You wanna tell me you've never had bruises of your own hiding somewhere?"

That made him back off. He leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he offered that smirk she often saw every time she used to ask him questions like that. They used to tell each other everything; she wondered when they had stopped doing that.

"Fine, I punched a lieutenant," Rose sighed in defeat, "But he deserved it. Brought up the past."

"Are you okay?"

Rose nodded, "It's not me who I'm concerned about."

"Bradshaw?"

Rose's eyebrows furrowed as she nodded. It was as if he could read her mind. Iceman nodded in acknowledgment, contemplating as he studied her with a look that she could not decipher. She had so much that she wanted to say and so little time to say it. Why did it feel like she was running out of time? Why did it feel impossible to put any of her thoughts into words? The things she wanted to say would stay hidden within her heart.

Rose glanced out at the darkened backyard, biting her lip, "I used to wait for you under that tree."

Iceman tilted his head back, looking thoughtful.

"Every morning you went out on flights, I knew you would fly over the house. So I'd wait. I'd lay in the grass, and you'd pass by, and I could always tell which one was you because you'd tilt your wings back and forth. Like you were waving at me from up there. . . I always waved back. I wasn't sure if you knew."

He gave her the saddest smile, "I knew."

Rose nodded, sitting down on one of the cozy armchairs by the large window. She sucked in a thick breath and looked down at her hands and then back up to meet Iceman's eyes — full of love as they had always been. He took care of her, and she took care of him. Being a parent was never easy, but it was harder when you were the infamous Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky in the Navy, distracted with missions and deployments. It left Rose on her own. Left her to wish she didn't have such resentment towards her father.

Iceman always did the best he could.

Until he got sick.

For a while, Rose quietly watched him. She didn't speak. She knew what he was doing, what he always did, because he knew her too well. A year was a long time to not see each other. There was so much to say, so much to talk about, but there didn't need to be so much conversation because he was content. Rose was content. Even if some things would be left unsaid.

She was home.