Cold Winter Days

Chapter VI

What now?
Maverick lets the question sit in his mind one dusty morning. He hasn't gone to any of the lessons since he got back on dry land. Viper keeps telling him that 'don't worry, it takes time' and 'there will be others' and 'losing comrades is part of the job'. He knows it's true.
But god why did it have to be Goose?
Goose was the one who let Maverick into his life, let him become family, looked out for him when he did something stupid and gave him all his get out of jail free cards but now he's gone and he's not coming back and it's all Maverick's fault.
Which is another thing Viper keeps telling him.
How could it not be? Maverick told him to eject, Maverick flew into that jetstream that pushed them into a flat spin, Maverick, in every way, killed him.

He stops his mind flying into a frenzy of flashing memories of that day. He doesn't need that right now. What he wants is to leave.
Say goodbye to Top Gun and the sunsets and the beach volleyball and Viper and Jester and the F-14's and their speed and Slider and Ice and-
Maverick stops. He doesn't want to say goodbye to Ice, not now, not ever.
Of everyone else telling him to move on, Ice hasn't. Not once.

Just last night Maverick remembers Ice giving him one of his bone-meltingly warm hugs.
They aren't speaking as much as they should be. Or, well, Maverick isn't doing much talking anymore, to anyone. There's no words for him to say that don't twist the conversation to that feeling of the 26th July.

He wants to go. He wants to stay. He wants to leave. He wants to stay with Ice.
Maverick sighs, sitting forward and resting his head in his hands.
I don't know, he thinks, determined to stop his mind wondering. So he fixes his eyes on the ridges in the common room's faded red carpet.

~~~

Maverick's in the locker room that afternoon, looking through the Polaroids that he keeps in his, knowing he won't be disturbed, everyone else is in a lecture.
And oh, this one. The one where they all went down too the beach and played volleyball for three hours straight, then Slider took the photo, and they all fell over, then Ice helped him finish an assignment for the following day after Goose and Slider had left them kissing in the sand. Maverick misses that day, that feeling of being warm and loved and wanted by all his friends. Its strange, sometimes he feels warm, other times it's like he's right back in the freezing ocean holding Goose up.
No. Look at the photos. Don't think about him. Don't think about that day.

But then somebody's footsteps drag him out of his internal fight. Footsteps that he has memorised, like every other part of the person they belong to.
"Mitchell," Iceman says quietly.
He doesn't say anything, fixing his gaze on the locker that used to be Goose's, the letters spelling his name gone, it's inside empty. Maverick knows it's empty, he cleared it out himself, rescued the fading polaroids from being thrown out.
"I'm sorry about Goose," Ice pauses, the words coming out like he's rehearsed them time and time over. "Everybody liked him,"
Yeah, they did. It should've been me, the reckless pilot, not the one who was lighthearted and fun and had a family.
"..I'm sorry,"
Ice goes quiet.
Maverick's heart aches. He knows he should say something, but there's no words that come to help.
He can hear Ice slowly inhale, and as he steps over to him. But he can feel it as he slides his left arm around his chest. Ice's hands are gentle as he runs his right along Maverick's wrist, tensed and pressed against his locker door. Maverick watches as he eases it off the door, and against Ice's steady one, he can feel his own shaking.
His back pressed into Ice, feeling him holding him, it's like a switch that flicks off, and Maverick swallows, his throat half closed up.
Ice's breath on his ear. Tears bead in his eyes.

That's all he needed. He drops the handful of Polaroids as he brings up his left hand to cover his mouth and nose.
Maverick Mitchell breaks, slowly, quietly, painfully, in Iceman's arms, turning to bury his head in the taller pilot's chest.
Ice doesn't let go, or object, or push him away. If anything, he just holds him closer and tighter.
Ice is the warmth Maverick needs.