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Yesterday, the Navy canceled the detachment's training for the funeral of Tom "Iceman" Kazansky. Though Emerson didn't know the Admiral personally, she knew he was once an excellent pilot and a respected commander of the Pacific Fleet. Not to mention, a close friend of her father's.
At the funeral, Emerson and Maverick were both caught sneaking glances at the other, yet they still hadn't spoken since the hospital. Emerson considered offering Maverick her condolences, but she decided against it; unsure of where they stood. Yet, she was sure it had to be painful to lose another friend. Emerson figured that was just another thing she and her father had in common; they both managed to lose the people closest to them. It got her thinking about her mother. Bradley stood quietly beside her, distracted by what she assumed were thoughts of his father. She intertwined their fingers and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He sent her a warm smile back.
The next day, Admirals Bates and Simpson summoned the special training detachment earlier than usual. Emerson entered the room, scanning it for signs of Maverick, yet he was nowhere to be found. Though her doctor cleared her for flight training, Emerson still winced in discomfort at the sporadic sharp pains from her crash injuries.
"Emmie Raye, back from the dead."
Emerson paused. 'Emmie Raye' was a nickname specifically used by her mother and Bradley, yet it came from the voice of neither. Her blood began to boil as she matched the face to the voice.
"I just knew you couldn't get enough of me," Hangman finished.
"In your wildest dreams, Hangman," Rooster muttered.
Emerson approached the pilot, "You know Seresin, both of my fists survived the crash. You wanna see?"
"That's enough! Sit down, Lieutenant Blackwood," Admiral Simpson called. Emerson took her seat behind Bradley. "Captain Mitchell is no longer your instructor. As of today, there are new mission parameters. Time to target is now four minutes."
Whispers erupted amongst the group, all trying to guess the reasons behind Maverick's untimely departure. Bradley turned around, shooting Emerson a confused look. Her eyebrows were furrowed, just as confused as the rest of the aviators. She shrugged her shoulders at Bradley.
From altitude to speed, Admiral Simpson completely changed the framework of the mission. If Emerson was being honest, it put the pilots at risk more than Maverick's plan. "Sir, that exposes us to the enemy," she stated.
"You have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft, much more than the odds of surviving a head-on collision with a mountain."
"In an F-18?" She repeated the phrase Maverick had said earlier in their training.
Before Admiral Simpson could offer his rebuttal, the screen simulation behind him changed back to its original route, the one of Maverick's plan. Captain Mitchell's voice filled the airwaves, "Maverick to Range Control, entering Point Alpha. Confirm green range."
"Range Control to Maverick, green range is confirmed. I don't see an event scheduled for you today, sir."
"Well, I'm going anyway. Setting time to target to two minutes and fifteen seconds. Maverick's inbound."
As Maverick's F-18 soared through the sky, the pilots watched his course on the screen's simulation. Needless to say, everyone watching was on the edge of their seats. If Maverick could accomplish the mission simulation singlehandedly, then all doubt of mission failure would be eradicated.
The soft ticks of the mission timer engulfed the silence that had fallen over the group. Everyone held their breath as they waited for Maverick to release the bombs before the timer ran out. "Bombs away." Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell had successfully completed the simulation; the mission was possible. High-fives and cheers filled the room over his accomplishment.
"Showoff," Emerson mumbled.
However, much like the outcome of many situations, Maverick found himself in the office of Admiral Simpson, alongside Admiral Bates.
"Do I risk my career or the lives of my pilots?" Admiral Simpson asked.
"Sir, if I may—"
"I believe the Admiral was asking a rhetorical question, Captain," Admiral Bates answered.
"Captain Mitchell, I am appointing you, team leader." Admiral Simpson dismissed the captain.
At the news of his final deployment, Pete Mitchell suited up in his official Navy uniform to make two farewell stops.
Pete entered the Hard Deck to the sound of a lively evening crowd. He watched as the woman he loved, Penny Benjamin, worked her way around the bar. Catching a customer with their phone on the bar top, she rang the bell, and in the usual Hard Deck fashion, the crowd cheered. Penny caught Maverick's gaze. He stuck out like a sore thumb against the crowd with his clean, white suit. Penny had been a military brat her entire life; she knew what that uniform signified. She followed Pete out to the beach as he explained that he wasn't running away but had orders to follow through. He promised that what he said the other night about never leaving her again was true, and he swore he would return to her and Amelia.
After saying goodbye to Penny, Pete arrived at his last stop: Emerson Blackwood's house. After catching up on the impressive naval career of his daughter, Pete was surprised to learn that Emerson lived in the same house as Charlie, just decades later.
Emerson and Bradley were laying in bed, Friends played faintly in the background. Emerson was curled into his side with her head resting against his bare, toned stomach while his fingers combed through her hair. With the mission rapidly approaching, the two were trying to soak up their last few moments together.
"So, does this mean I need to make amends with your father?"
Emerson laughed, propping herself up on her elbow, "I think you and I both have a complicated history with Pete Mitchell."
Bradley wanted to ask how she was dealing with it all. It certainly couldn't be easy to find out her idol, turned instructor for a deadly mission was in fact her long, lost father. Bradley tried to analyze her, but Emerson didn't show much emotion about it, though. Maybe she was repressing the truth. After all, she went over thirty years without a father, what difference did it make now? Or was she just trying to focus on the mission?
"How are you holding—" There was a knock at Emerson's front door, interrupting Bradley, "Are you expecting someone?"
"Shit, it's my husband!" Emerson quickly jumped out of bed, "Now, hide before he sees me in bed with another man!" She laughed.
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny," Bradley deadpanned. "If that's Hangman, I'm going to beat his ass."
Emerson grabbed Bradley's T-shirt off the floor, putting it on. It was large enough to stop mid-thigh on her smaller frame. She went to the door and unlocked it. Captain Pete Mitchell stood on her front porch dressed in his official Navy uniform. Emerson knew what this was; she had done the same thing to Bradley on her first deployment. This was Maverick's farewell tour.
Except, Emerson knew there was something more behind her father's presence. Her jaw set, "I'm not going on the mission, am I?"
Maverick's face was solemn, "I can't fail your mother again."
Emerson huffed, displeased with her father's decision. She bit her lip, turning her gaze away from his. Of course, he would do this. How could she have been so stupid not to see it sooner? She shook her head, turning back toward him, "Don't give me some bullshit that you're doing this because you care about me or my mother! You didn't even know I existed!"
Tears welled in his eyes, "Listen, I loved your mother—"
"Not enough to stay," Emerson snapped.
"I didn't know—"
"It wasn't enough for you to come back to her!"
A tear slowly traveled down his cheek. Emerson had every right to be angry at him, but it still didn't stop her words from shooting daggers at his heart. He began to open his mouth, but Emerson cut him off for the final time, "You know what, Mav? I didn't need you then, and I certainly don't need you now. You will never be my father. Please leave."
He turned and she slammed the door. Bradley overheard the whole conversation from her bedroom. He ran to her side as she fell to the ground. Angry sobs overtook her body as she finally came to terms with the truth.
He pulled her body close, her head cradled into his shoulder, "I'm so sorry Emmie." Bradley finally got the answer to his question, Emerson Blackwood was not handling it well.
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