Below The Hard Deck | A Top Gun Fanfiction

CHAPTER VIII

I have to talk to someone. Maverick is out of the question for obvious reasons. I could call Specs, but he'd probably be on the first flight down to San Diego with a taste for blood, especially since he was so on board with me letting Pete back into my life in the first place. I'm not about to bother Rooster with my relationship problems involving his estranged father-figure. That leaves just one person left on my list of possibilities.

Wow, I need more friends.

I sit in my car in front of the nice suburban home. An American flag flies just outside the door, opposite a wooden carving of naval aviator wings. When I finally work up the courage to knock, the welcome mat brings a smile to my face.

A FIGHTER PILOT & A NORMAL PERSON
LIVE HERE

I hesitantly knock on the door, praying that I came early enough that I'm not interrupting dinner. In reality, I should have called first to ask if I could drop by, but my brain was on autopilot as I left the base. I just needed to get out.

"Claddagh?" Sarah, Iceman's wife of many years, answers the door with a confused look.

"Hi," I breath out, rocking back and forth on my toes. "I know I should have called first, but I really need to talk to Ice. Is he here?" Her face falls, eyes finding the ground. "He's here, isn't he?"

"You better come inside." I step past her into the impeccably clean home. Through the back window, I see young kids bouncing on a trampoline in the backyard. I know that Ice has a few grandchildren, but last I heard they lived in Maine. When I turn around to face my host, she has a sad smile on her face. Without a word, she pulls me into a hug. "It's good to see you Lucky."

Suddenly, it dawns on me. The gloomy looks, the hug out of nowhere, the kids in the back yard, it can all mean only one thing. I pull away from Sarah, taking a deep breath as I force my words out. "It's back, isn't it?"

She shrugs, swallowing her tears. "No one knows, but it's bad Lucky. It hurts too much for him to even talk right now. The doctors say he's," she pauses, taking a calming breath, "he's done. There's nothing more they can do but make him comfortable."

"How long?" I don't even know if I want to hear the answer.

"Few days, maybe a couple weeks." I pull the grieving woman into my chest, needing the hug just as much as her. Ice always seemed like someone who was invincible, both in the air and in life. His very being oozes confidence and discipline, like he is always one step ahead of everyone else. He is Iceman. That's the only way to describe him.

"Can I see him?" Screw my own personal problems, I want to see my friend.

She nods, motioning towards his office with her head. "He's in there."

I narrow my eyes. "He's not still working, is he?"

"You know how stubborn Tom is. He won't quit until he's," her words trail off.

I give her arm a comforting squeeze and make my way over to the office. It's a large, open room, covered with mementos showcasing his amazing career. My eyes automatically find the picture of him and Maverick shaking hands after our first mission out of graduation, the very one that hangs in the Pacific Navel Fleet building. The sound of coughs pull my attention back to the man in the room. Ice sits behind a desk, his back facing me as he goes over a stack of papers. His old frosted tips have sense been replaced by a head of gray hair and, even in the heat of the early evening, he's bundled up with a black coat and scarf.