MAVERICK was in a position where he no longer knew how to react to events—Rooster and his tantrums, Hangman and his incessant teasing, Damiana wanting to give up flying... He was covered in problems and couldn't see a solution to even one of them.

Ice's message had been haunting his mind for hours. I need to see you, he'd said. Not a good time, Maverick replied. I'm not asking, he said next.

Those were the words that drove Maverick and his motorcycle to Admiral Kazansky's residence. He grinned at the kids running around the yard, gave Sarah a tight hug at the sight of her, but her eyes had betrayed something Pete hadn't been prepared to hear:

"Doctors can't do anything else. Even talking now hurts," Sarah said, holding back tears.

"Sarah, I'm sorry."

Back in their Top Gun days, Maverick and Iceman were what Rooster and Hangman are today. There were a few paintings of the two of them scattered around the house; lots of photographs from Tom's fighter pilot days; and military props.

Maverick still knew the way to Tom's office by heart, even after all these years. He didn't knock as he opened the door, but entered just as the Admiral was recovering from a coughing fit.

"Admiral," he called, trying to maintain his composure.

Iceman, even with the disease that weakened him, was still the same as always. His gray hair was slicked back and glasses adorned his face. A scarf had been placed around his neck and he wore a wool coat. It was pretty hot outside, but Maverick knew he couldn't face the cold or maybe feel the cold. Ice grinned at the sight of Maverick pulling out a chair to sit across from him.

"How is my ALA doing?" he asked jokingly.

I want to talk about work, Ice typed into his computer. They would communicate that way, then. It was strange since one of the last memories Maverick had of them together was of the time they'd piloted fighter jets without fear of facing death. And here was Ice, struggling not to die of a disease.

"Please don't worry about me," he pleaded. "What can I do for you?"

Ice did nothing but point at the computer screen again. Maverick sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Giving up, he nodded, knowing he wouldn't be able to escape.

"Rooster is still mad at me for what I did," Maverick hissed. "I thought he might understand. I hoped he'd forgive me."

There is still time. Maverick shook his head, denying it to himself more than anyone else.

"The mission is in less than three weeks," he reminded her. "The boy isn't ready."

Then teach him.

"He doesn't want what I have to give," he denied, but Ice waved him away. "Ice, please. Don't ask me to send someone to die. Please don't ask me to send them. Send me."

It's time to forget. Those words carried more weight than Maverick wanted to admit. He was silent for several seconds, shaking his head, not knowing how to respond. He felt tears coming to his eyes and the strength to fight not to let them fall with the memories that invaded him.

"I don't know how," he admitted. "I'm not a teacher, Ice. I'm a fighter pilot. A naval aviator. It's not just what I am, it's who I am. How do I teach this? Even if I could teach, that's not what Rooster wants. It's not what the Navy wants. That's why they cut me last time. The only reason I'm here is you."

Ice stared at him deeply, absorbing his ALA's words.

"If I send him on this mission, he might not come back," he continued. "And if I don't send him, he'll never forgive me. Anyway, I could lose him forever."

It's time to forget, Maverick read again. Suddenly, Ice shook his head frantically, putting strength into his arms and legs and getting up from the leather chair he occupied every day. Maverick got up to help him instantly, catching him by the wrists when Ice coughed.

"The Navy needs the Maverick," he said, his voice weak and husky. "The boy needs Maverick, so I fought for you. That's why you're still here."

"It wasn't just that," Maverick denied, sensing what was coming next. "You sent Damiana Schneider back, didn't you?" She wants me to put her on this mission too.

Ice nodded, a slightly sad smile growing on his lips.

"The girl is scared," he hissed, his voice melancholy. "And she's mad at me."

"She's one of the best pilots, Ice, but her stubbornness is worse than hers," Maverick said, drawing a laugh from his ALA. "She's already filed several withdrawal letters. You were the one who denied them all."

He laughed, breaking into a smile that made Maverick laugh. He didn't know Damiana as the Admiral, but he'd always heard about her and her exploits all those years. Supernova was a strange and unique codename, and he knew she shouldn't have earned it for a small feat.

"I want her to fly again," Ice whispered, feeling more tired than usual. "I want her to be happy again."

Maverick wouldn't deny that to his longtime friend, not when no one knew how long he'd be there. He hugged Ice affectionately, a gesture that was reciprocated. He thanked him for everything—for the advice, the scolding, the arguments... He thanked him for everything they had been through together.

"One last thing," Ice said, before Maverick left. "Who is the best pilot? You or me?"

"It's a nice moment," Maverick grumbled, laughing. "We're not going to ruin it."

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11.26.22

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