Mayhem || B. Bradshaw

Chapter 9

     "WHAT IS WITH THESE TWO?" HANGMAN COMMENTED, which made the entire Gallery go silent, all of the remaining pilots scooching closer to the radio.

     "All right, you put us here." Maverick said. "How're you gonna get yourself out?"

     "You can bail out anytime," Bradley shot back, his breathing getting heavier and heavier.

     "How low you wanna go, Rooster?"

     "I can go as low as you, sir! And that's saying something."

     Lizbeth drew a sharp breath, a concerned frown etching into her face. It was killing her to not be able to see the action, but at least she could hear it.

     "What's past is past. For both of us." Maverick tried.

     "You'd like to believe that, wouldn't you?" Bradley said, and even though those words weren't meant towards her, Lizbeth still felt a harsh jab as he said them. The anger lacing his voice, it was real. She knew, because she had experienced him like that firsthand.

     His words echoed in her head, and she bit her lip, diverting her eyes as her heart beat heavier, a lump growing in her throat. He will never forgive me.

     "Hard deck is 5,000 feet, fellas," Hangman chimed in. "You are running out of room."

     Lizbeth's finger started to tap the counter in distress, her knuckles pressing up to her face as she continued to chew on her bottom lip.

     Her breathing trembled at the sound of the two men breathing through the radio, the only sign she had of them still being alive and not hitting the ground.

     "Your strategy is about to run us into the ground," Maverick was kind enough to inform them. That didn't really help Lizbeth's state of mind. "What's your move?"

     Then the automated voice broke through the radio, warning about the altitude.

     "Shoot," Bob muttered, and Lizbeth met his eyes with a slightly terrified look.

     The voice continued to warn, and for each second that passed, Lizbeth became more and more anxious. The distraught ate her up, and worsened the moment the voice changed to "Pull up! Pull up! Pull up!"

     She didn't relax before she heard the grunts of Maverick and Rooster pulling at their control sticks, and Maverick's voice as he spoke to Rooster, "You got it. Don't think, just do."

     "Come on, Rooster, you got him!" Hangman spoke next, and the fact that he had them in sight led Lizbeth to let out a shaky, but relieved breath. "Drop down and take the shot!"

     "It's too low," Bradley spoke, which was the last thing Lizbeth needed to hear before she knew that they would hopefully be okay.

     "Too late, you had your chance," Maverick said and the beep came mere seconds after. "That's a kill, knock it off."

     Rooster let out a frustrated yell, a heavy breath escaping his lips.

     "Same old Rooster," Hangman commented.

     "Go see Hondo about your push-ups," was the last thing Maverick said before the line of communication went silent.

     The three F-18's landed on the Tarmac shortly after, and Lizbeth looked at them exiting their aircrafts through the window from the Gallery. Almost everyone had left for a short lunch break before they were going to wrap it up and go to their rooms. Though, Lizbeth had her apartment, since she was already stationed in San Diego.

     "You know it, don't you?" Phoenix approached her, curiosity getting the best of her. "About Maverick and Rooster?"

     "Are you surprised?" Lizbeth muttered, her eyes trained on the three figures walking down the Tarmac, and remained on the one who stopped by Hondo. "It's not mine to share. You'll have to ask Bradley."

     "True," Phoenix nodded, "you know, you never really told me why you two broke it off. I thought for sure he was about to get down on one knee and pull out a ring–"

     "Natasha," Lizbeth warned, her voice quivering. "Don't go there. I don't want to talk about it. You know that."

     "I just thought... I mean, it's been six years, Liz. You have to let it out at some point, I can see how much it pains you."

     "We didn't end it on good terms, okay?" Lizbeth pursed her lips, diverting her eyes. The painful memory of six years ago stabbed her heart. "I'm really not in the mood for this, Nat."

     "Sorry," Natasha's voice was remorseful. "I didn't want to bring up bad memories, I just want to help you."

     "I know," Lizbeth sighed, her eyes finding Bradley again, who had begun his push-ups with Hondo guarding. "And you have. You gave me housing, and you were at the funeral. You've helped me more than you know. So, thanks."

     "That's what friends are for, right?" Natasha nudged her playfully, before meeting her eyes. "Don't forget that, 'kay? I'm here when you feel ready to tell me."

     "Thanks, Nat," Lizbeth smiled gratefully. "I appreciate it."