Permission To Fly: A Hangman Fanfiction

chapter 9: this is it

I wake up a few minutes before my alarm and lay still, taking everything in. From last night, to what today holds, it's a lot. I get up a moment later and change into my white uniform, packing up as much as I can, and talking to Phoenix on the phone. Within the next 24 hours, I'll have my next assignment and be off somewhere in the world. There's a knock at the door, so I open it to see Jake standing there with a mug. "Hey, come on in," I say, stepping back so he can get through. I shut the door behind him, and he hands me the mug. I smile, graciously accepting it.

"Good morning, Delilah," Jake says, wrapping his arms loosely around my waist. I take a sip of the tea, and it's close to what I prefer, but I won't argue. "Packing already?"

"Yeah, I'd rather be ahead of the inevitable. It'll also save time later," I mention and he just nods, taking in the bareness of the room now. Everything is packed except the framed photo of my dad and I. He walks over and picks it up gently, fingers brushing off some dust from the frame.

"This is cute. Is it from the story you told me about when you knew you wanted to be a pilot?" Jake asks and I nod.

"It is, my mom took it. She says that the moment the photo was taken, she knew I belonged in the sky. She didn't want her kids to be fighter pilots in the Navy, but my dad convinced her eventually." I check the time and see that we need to head to the ceremony. "Anyway, we need to start going," I say, starting to walk to the door. Jake gently grabs my wrist, stopping me, before he pulls me back to him.

"Just so you know, I hope you are ranked first in the class," he says and kisses me. I smile and hug him.

"Either way, it's going to an amazing pilot," I say, smiling up at him. "Oh, what do you want me to do about your mug?"

"Keep it, it'll be something to remember me if we're separated, not that you could forget me," Jake says, back to his cocky self. I laugh and start to walk back to the door again. We head to the ceremony and take our seats. We're seated in alphabetical order, so I'm not beside Bradley, Nat, or Jake. I see Dad walk in with Cyclone, Warlock, Maverick, and a few others. I'm surprised Uncle Pete came, but I bet they invited him back since he was an instructor. I haven't looked around to see if my family came, but I know I'll likely see them at some point today.

The ceremony goes by in a blur, between recognition of all of us making it through the course, a few words from Warlock and Cyclone, and presenting us with new patches, I almost space out for the most important part: the best pilot in our class. Secretly, I hope it will be me, but I know there's a good chance it won't be. I want it to be earned by my flight skills, not because of my last name or because they feel like it should go to me because of who my dad is. Trust me, I was constantly reminded of that all throughout the academy and when I was on my last ship.

"Now, the moment you all have been waiting for, the lieutenant who is the top pilot. This pilot worked harder than anyone else and persisted throughout all of their flights. Their losses in dogfights pushed them to fly better and they took each flight as a lesson to see how they could become the best pilot. This pilot truly impressed us, and I'm honored to present the top pilot, Lieutenant Delilah Kazansky, call sign: Swift." Cyclone says, and despite my shock, I keep a composed face and a tight smile. This means the ceremony is over, we're no longer TOPGUN students. We all stand up and Natasha practically runs over to give me a hug.

"Congratulations! I knew you would get it, especially after yesterday," she says and I give her a tight squeeze. I'm going to miss this so much. There's so few female pilots and to have had such a close connection with Phoenix meant everything to me. If it wasn't for her and Bradley, I may have dropped out after the first week.

"Thanks, Natasha. I couldn't have done this without you, after all, you are my wingwoman. I really hope we're stationed together, I can't imagine flying without you." I say, holding back tears. I can't tell if they're happy or sad tears, maybe a mix of both, but I can't cry and look bad. I'm a very ugly crier.