𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 | A Top Gun Fanfiction

Chapter 2: 𝘎𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭

I'm just a girl.

Grew up on a farm, loved it, miss it, but my second love of flying took me away from my horses and my big ol' lovey dovey country family.

The opposite of my friend and RIO little miss city girl.

She used to wish she had my farm life while I moped about missing out on all her fun Friday nights.

"Landing."

I throw my arms up again and then remember I could badly hurt them doing that so I cross them over my body and clench my jaw. OH SH-

Language! She laughs again, louder and longer this time.

I close my eyes, waiting for the touchdown...

And I jerk back in my seat, but I don't explode.

My mind is quiet. Peaceful almost. My body isn't burning. There's no fire, no heat and certainly no suffocating smoke and the unforgettable smell of the sea and burning flesh.

I'm alive.

Again, I think, somewhat bitterly.

Damn right, she snaps.

She's frustrated, or she wouldn't dared have sworn. She's not into cussing if you haven't figured that out already.

I love life, I mean it.

Good. Because it's been nothing but good to you.

Not to you.

"Stirrups? Stirrups?" Cobra flails in his pilot's seat, twisting to see me. "Helloooo! Earth to Stirrups?"

"Yes?"

"You went blank for a moment Cowgirl."

"I've already got a call sign snake brains I don't need a second," I snap.

Cobra laughs. "There's the Stirrups I know and love. Ready to climb out and touch sacred Top Gun ground?"

I swallow hard. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Together, my team mate and I disembark, climbing down onto the runway into the full glare of the sun. Damn is it hot! I ruffle my jacket, fanning what cool air I can onto the white t-shirt that's now slick with sweat, hugging my sides and front. I peek down and pray my bra isn't showing through. Phew! We're all good! Though I decide to keep my back to the sun if I can help it. Cobra is oblivious to my brief panic. He busies himself getting out my bags. I would offer to help, but he's a gentleman through and through. Ever since I came to train, he was nice, though he didn't believe me when I told him I was there to fly. Took some convincing on my part. Now he knows full well that I'd out fly him anytime. Good thing too. Or he'd be dead disappointed at the end of every race.

For each thud of my bags hitting the ground, Cobra grunts.

"You sure you're ok?"

"Fine-" He groans. "Damn girl! What's in this?"

"My extra flight suit and clothes and some books."

"I bet you mean bricks."

"Ha," I tease, though my tone is flat as a desert.

"Need a hand Lieutenant?" An unfamiliar feminine voice inquires, drawing my head back around. Immediately, I look into the youthful face of a young woman, a little older than me. Her short cut, wavy hair nearly matches mine, though hers puffs out in a similar way to my RIO's. She's sporting her own aviator jacket, a tight white tanktop and a pair of jeans that've seen better days. My eyes catch on her shoes though. White Nikes. Just from looking at her feet, I've unveiled her. This is a woman after my own heart. She would like this one too. "...alright."

The woman and Cobra have been talking this whole time as I've stared at her shoes.

I feel embarrassed as Hell and fumble to recover for my shame:

"Hi." Wait...is she an officer? "Uh, hello...Ma'am."

"Charlie," The woman tells me, offering a hand that I shake. "You don't have to call me Ma'am. I'm just a instructor. Besides, woman to woman, I'd rather we speak to each other as equals."

"Sounds fine to me," I answer.

Charlie narrows her eyes playfully. "You gonna say something like that without a smile?"

"I..." My mouth dries out and I slowly pull a grimace. It's the closest thing to a smile that I can muster nowadays.

"Hey," Charlie sets a hand on my forearm. "I understand. I was teasing." Her own smile is wound tight, but I can read the deeper sympathy and it carries a flavor awfully like pity. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. "So, what do they call you?"

"Stirrups."

"Like, saddle stirrups?"

"Yep, I grew up on a farm out in Alabama."

"Alabama huh? Never had an Alabamian in my classes." Charlie shoots a glance at Cobra, who lingers by my pile of three bags. She raises a hand to her mouth and whispers, "Never had a girl pilot either. It's exciting."

I want to smile. To give her the proper reaction. Instead I just nod and force a smile into my voice. "You can't imagine."

"Lieutenant!"

"Yes Ma'am?" Cobra hurries forward and stops at my side.

"We can take care of her from here," Charlie gives me a reassuring smile. "I'll let you say goodbye."

She steps back a bit, allowing me and Cobra some space. I pivot on my heels to face him, my gaze hovering at his chest, which is the height of my eye line. Then I drag my gaze up into his face and find his eyes dusted with wonder, though rimmed in a degree of sadness. It's understandable. Cobra and I are on good terms. Not friends, but not unkind to one another. We've played wingman for each other plenty of times. Shark and Twister were like brothers to Cobra. He's suffered loss too. But he wasn't in the cockpit when it went down, I argue. He didn't burn inside out. He isn't haunted.

Still, he's family...

Of a sort.

I wrap my arms around him and sink into a hug. "Goodbye Cobra."

"G'bye, Cowgirl."

"Shut up."

"Ok, Stirrups."

He pats me awkwardly on the back and I pull back. Cobra smiles broadly, rolling back his shoulders into 'attention' pose. He salutes me. Then, his gaze falls to my chest. I gasp. His eyes seem to burn through the fabric and find the extra pair of dog tags. Her dog tags. Cobra salutes once more. For her. Then, he's turned away and climbing back into the plane. Getting ready to take off. Charlie hefts up two of my bags and leaves me to take the third, unaware that it's the one carrying her stuff. Wordlessly, I follow her to her car. It's a nice convertible. Perfect for weather like the kind that's making me sweat bucket loads. We load my luggage into the back and climb into the front two seats.

Two engines rev in unison.

Before I can watch Cobra take off, Charlie swings her car out, driving onto the road and zipping past the base.

"You'll be staying at my house! I've got you a nice room and everything!"

I look at the mirror, searching for Cobra. No luck. "Thanks!" I shout over the rush of wind sweeping over the car.

Charlie flicks on the radio and a song called Danger Zone comes on. I've always liked it. So I settle into the passenger seat I've occupied today and sing along to the lyrics, wishing I was half as brave as I used to be. If I want to fly for Top Gun, I'm going to have to get back into the danger zone again.

My eyes dart towards Charlie.

A skip in my heart tells me that maybe my guardian angel will be able to help me with that.