Our Bruised Bodies | Bradley Bradshaw

ACT FIVE - PART EIGHTEEN

"I'm not talking to your father. He let an armed squad get me." Pete said instead of a greeting as he picked up the phone upon seeing his daughter's name pop up on the screen of his phone, which he had just been given back a few minutes ago as said armed squad finally released him.

Fucking cunts, really. Pete thought, not sure if the insult was solely meant for the armed squad or also the two Kazansky assholes he called his family.

Well, maybe he did know.

"An entire squad was aiming at me and treating me like a terrorist or something." Thinking about it, with all the taxpayer money Maverick already burned with all of his shenanigans, he might actually be well classified with the term terrorist.

Grace wanted to ask her dad what he honestly did expect after crashing a multibillion-dollar jet, just because he had to make a point and show the world that his balls were bigger than Cains. She knew that her father sure as hell would go into a full lecture about taxpayer's money, as he usually did when a member of his family destroyed US Navy property, but there was really no achieving anything by doing this with their dad. Maverick Mitchell won't learn. His daughter knew that much, but she was also totally pissed off and ready to wrap her hands around his neck, only to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze. For without his short-circled decision, no one she loved would be in danger.

"Get over it. You don't even have the slightest idea what it cost us to safe your ass this time." She told Pete instead, not in the mood to be a guest at his pity party. She had her own to attend and the constant nauseas to take care off.

"That's because you and your father never tell us shit." The older aviator replied, which had Grace openly huff into her phone. Why was her family like this? Couldn't they just say thank you and be glad that they had someone who was looking out for them, because they sure as hell didn't manage on their own.

"Cain wanted your wings." She told Mav honestly, even though her father had made sure to tell her to not tell Pete about that, but she was so sick about all the secrets. They were a family, and they should be able to talk about everything that was coming up.

But maybe she was a hypocrite, because she sure as hell won't share her own secrets with them.

"Conduct unbecoming and dishonourable discharge. You should kiss the ground daddy walks on for saving you once more."

Also make up with him. He's dying and I don't know how much longer we have with him. But you don't know that because daddy pushed you away, told you it's over with the two of you after nearly three decades of being together because he's too stubborn for his own good and doesn't want you to watch him die like you watched Goose and then Carole die. He thinks it's mercy to die without you. But it is not. Please, you need to realise what's really going on.

"So, what now? Another two years away from you all in the desert?" Pete wondered out loud, clearly defensive which had Grace close her eyes, before pinching the bridge of her nose. This was going to be a fucking long month.

"No." She muttered after a while, already regretting it deeply that Ice is making her do this. He is so playing the sick card. Asking of her to take care of Maverick. If he survives this, she will kill him.

"Top Gun." Grace almost grumbled, clearly displeased about having to be the messenger.

"I'll meet you there." She then added, ready to end the call since orders were given, and she had a whole lot of other shit to take care off. She was an Admiral and therefore chained to an office desk after all. Some days it was so not worth it.