"Housekeeping!" a high pitched voice said from the other side of the door. There were three knocks.
"He's an idiot." I told Bradley as he helped me under the covers, but I couldn't keep the smile from playing across my lips.
Bradley opened the door for Reuben. Mickey was behind him, but hidden because of the height difference. Payback held two platters of food in his hands, just like he had when he'd brought us lunch.
"Kitchen was closing up," he said with a shrug as Bradley gave him a 'you didn't need to do that'. "And she can't even get up all of those flights of stairs."
"I could," I objected, trying to slide out of bed. Bradley put his hand on my shoulder, shoving me back down.
"No."
"Fine." I grumbled, rolling my eyes. I reached my arms out and pinched the air. Reuben chuckled, handing me one of the plates. The other went to Bradley. He set it on my nightstand.
I let the plate sit in my lap as all three of us watched him riffle through his bag. I heard the sound of shaking items and he revealed my sleeping pills. I threw my fork at him. It hit him in the head, clattering onto the floor behind him. He didn't even flinch.
"What are those?" Mickey demanded, taking a step towards where Bradley was studying the bottle the nurse had given us and my own.
"Better question, whose are those?" Reuben questioned, his eyes never leaving me. I wanted to shrink.
"Lilah's," Bradley answered, refusing to glance up. "And they're supposed to be for night terrors and PTSD."
"And are they?"
"No," was Bradley's response. There was fire in his eyes as he whipped around to face me. "They're exactly the same as what's in this," he held up the one the nurse had given us, "container."
"Listen - " I tried to start, but I was cut off by three shouting men. I let them bark and scold me with a bored expression for a minute before I whistled. They shut up immediately, like dogs. "You really wanna know why I have sleeping pills? Because my mother tried to kill me. So yeah, I'm pretty fucking traumatized, pardon me for having trouble sleeping."
"You. Are. Sedating. Yourself." Bradley snapped, anger on every word. "You said you weren't!"
That caused Mickey and Reuben to turn on him.
"You knew!" Reuben accused, almost ready to shove Brad up against the wall. "And you didn't tell us!"
"I was drunk," Bradley defended. "We were about to have sex!"
Groans.
I quietly stood out of bed, letting Bradley's too big sweatshirt fall around my mid-thighs. The sleeves were rolled up a few times so I was able to use my hands.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen." They all turned to face me. "I've used them for years, bought from the same supplier. Brad, you actually beat him up." Bradley grumbled something I didn't catch, but 'murder' was definitely in the sentence. "And I am not sedating myself, I am letting myself get a good goddamn night of sleep. I haven't had one of those without the pills since I was 14."
"Lilah -"
"Don't 'Lilah' me, Reuben, I'm not a child. I'm not that stupid, not anymore." I said, my voice cracking slightly. "I'm not gonna overdose, I know my limits."
"A coma, Lilah, you were into a coma. Remember that? Well, I do, I remember every goddamn second of those 50 hours." Bradley rasped out, the words like they were vile, shaking the pills as he spoke. "These! These can do that again, and next time you might not wake up."
"I am not going to kill myself."
"Don't you see, Lilah, you already tried too! You try too ever time you get into the air! You are reckless, dangerous." Bradley screamed at me.
I beat his chest. "Asshole, you asshole! Don't accuse me of trying to get myself killed on purpose! Every time you take off you're flying against a ghost, a goddamn ghost, Bradley Bradshaw!"
"Because my father was killed! My father was killed up in the sky! I'm not flying against a ghost, I'm fighting one." He drug his hand across his mouth. "You are an idiot, Lilah Kazansky! You are a fucking idiot!"
"Fuck you!" I yelled at him, hitting him once more for good measures. "Get out! Get out, I don't want you here!"
Reuben took that as his moment to step in, gently setting his hand on Bradley's shoulder and leading him from the room. Mickey gave me a sad smile before shutting the door behind him.
And then I was alone, just like I had been before.
★★★
Bradley didn't come back.
I sat in bed for an hour before my leg was juddering so bad, I swore the whole room was shaking. I struggled out of bed, using my arms to launch myself towards my bag. I managed to get on bleached-stained sweatpants over my bulking bandage.
The hallway was clear as I hopped down it. The thudding of my socked foot was the only noise, even the motor was a quiet lull.
Maverick was seven doors down from mine. Light was beaming from under the door as I started to bang on it. A shadow appeared, and then the door swung open to reveal Maverick. He was struggling to get a shirt over his head, clad in a pair of workout shorts.
"Lilah?" he whisper-yelled as I shoved slash tottered past him. He closed the door behind me. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"Why aren't you?" I shot back, sitting on the edge of his bed. Mav took the wall, leaning up against it. "Couldn't, never do before a mission."
"Why are you here?" he demanded, scowling.
"Why are you here?" I mimicked his voice. "I'm here to discuss our mutual interest."
"Bradley?" Maverick asked, giving a breathy laugh. He pushed himself off the wall, pulling up a chair to face me. He sat down. "What has he done now?"
I debated for a moment if I should mention the fight and decided against it. "Tomorrow, I'm benching him."
"No," Maverick said, as if it was the easiest decision in the world. "Tomorrow, you are going to send him on this mission."
"Mav, I am not sending him to die. I wouldn't ask you too, and I am sure as hell not going to let you tell me what to do." I almost choked out every word, a lump quickly finding its place in my throat. Maverick was peering at me like I was a child. "This is my mission, the deaths are on me. And Bradley can't do it."
"No," Maverick answered. I had known him since I was seven, since I'd met Bradley for the first time. I'd looked up to him, he'd been a father-figure to me, but in that moment, he was my superior. "You can't do it with him up there. You can't send him to die."
"And you can?" I retorted back, my voice rising. "You could send him to die and not have the slightest bit of regret, give it a second thought?"
"Yes!" Maverick shouted. I was taken aback at his outburst. I moved farther up the bed as he rubbed his hands against his face. When he spoke again, his words were huffy. "If it meant that you would all come back from the mission tomorrow, I would choose him."
"But you can't guarantee, even with him up there, that we'll all make it back."
"No, I can't guarantee that all of you will make it back, that's a risk everyone knew when they walked into this mission. But I know that you'll make it back, Kazansky, because he will jump in front of you to save you. And I know that you would do the same for him."
The sentence was like a shot to the heart as I finally understood.
"I do not need him to protect me, Maverick!" I shouted, digging my fingernails in my palms. "I need him to live. I need him to come home tomorrow."
"No," he said, shaking his head. "You're not the only one who needs him to come home tomorrow. You're not the only one that cares about him." His voice softened, as did his eyes. "I lost my two best friends, Lilah, one of them made me think I would never feel again, yet I did. 34 years ago when I saw his son running me to his chubby legs, a cowboy hat and little red boots after I came home from flying without Nick for the first name. That, that is when life meant something again." He smiled at me, no, not me, at the ghost of his RIO. "And then 14 years later, when I saw a little girl in a light blue dress with large green eyes, my goddaughter." I'd seen Maverick cry, yet it surprised me when he sniffled. "You two are all I have left."
I gave Maverick a moment, as I watched him choke down sobs. He gripped onto the edge of his desk. "Tomorrow, Brad isn't going to fly. Because if you want me to come home, I need to know he's safe, on the ground, with you."
Maverick knew I was serious, he didn't try to argue, as he glanced up at me. Fire met fire as I got up from my place on the bed. He didn't speak until I made it from the bed and to the door, and then opened it.
"He'll hate you."
"I'd rather him hate me alive, then I have to miss him, dead." I gasped down a sob, staring down at the ground. "We hated each other before, decided to stay out of each other's lives, maybe it's just not a happy ending for us, Mav."
I didn't dare glance up at him as I closed the door on his response.
finally. i'm so sorry y'all. I should get a update out tomorrow.
i spent saturday in the minor med cuz they thought I broke my foot during a cross country and sunday I had a charity event, no excuse, but sorry nonetheless.
how would y'all feel if I wrote a marauder's fanfic? and it carried on into the harry potter era?