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Ethan has just about had it with his little brother's kid.
Bradley's behavior throughout training for the suicide mission has been nothing short of irritating. Quite frankly, were he anyone else, Ethan would've nailed him for insubordination instead of covering for his dumb ass. Sometimes, it's fun playing Captain Mitchell. He gets to yell at people a little, but not Bradley. The one and only time he ever raised his voice to the kid, Bradley was nine. The young Bradshaw looked so scared that Ethan vowed to never do it again, and no amount of attitude will change that.
The things he does for family.
Don't get him wrong. The kid has a right to be upset, but still being upset after fifteen fucking years takes a terribly familiar temperament. Mitchells are notoriously bad at letting things go.
That said, he's almost glad Pete is still in an induced coma after the fallout of the Darkstar project. No doubt, his brother would be running around with his fractured collarbone and spine, broken ribs, and concussion trying to mother hen all his students. The last thing he needs is to be watching his own kid hissing and spitting at him when all he's trying to do is keep the idiot alive. Ethan will head back out to the hangar tonight where Luther, Slider, and the others are keeping watch over his little brother, he thinks. It's been a rough day. Between Coyote's G-LOC and Phoenix's punch-out, he's ready to wind down a bit.
Unfortunately, he spots a familiar head of curls hunched over in the ready room. Ethan sighs. This is what he gets for doing his brother's wingman a favor.
Ethan is supposed to be on vacation, damn it.
Really and truly wishing he could lock Pete and Bradley in a room to work out their shit, Ethan opens the door and steps inside. He hesitates, deliberating what to say. "Phoenix and Bob are okay. They're being kept in the hospital overnight for observation."
"That's good," Bradley says, his voice low.
As annoyed as he is with the kid, it's more difficult than Ethan thought it would be to walk away when Bradley is clearly upset. So, he stays put.
"I've never lost a wingman."
Ethan grimaces. If anyone knows loss, it's him and his little brother, and there's nothing worse than losing people you feel responsible for. As an older sibling himself, he can imagine Bradley feels responsible for Phoenix, a woman as close to an adoptive sister as the kid will ever come. "You're lucky. You fly long enough," live long enough, "-it'll happen."
"That's easy for you to say," Bradley answers, his tone hardening as he looks up. "No wife. No kids. No one to mourn you when you burn in."
This damn kid. How dare he go for his brother's weak points like that. Bradley is Pete's kid, whether he accepts that or not. He can run away from it if he wants to, even scorn every bit of love they have to offer, but Ethan knows better. No one stays angry for fifteen years over someone they don't give a shit about.
"Go home," Ethan says, turning his back. He just barely keeps himself from growling the words. "Get some sleep."
"Why'd you pull my papers at the academy?" Bradley demands, stubborn as the day is long. He was angry and frightened before, but now he's pissed because Ethan didn't rise to the bait to give him a place to put it. "Why did you stand in my way?!"
"You weren't ready," Ethan answers. Seeing Bradley's behavior now, for as much as Pete agonized over doing it, Ethan thinks he might've been right.
"Ready for what? Ready to fly like you?"
Ethan grits his teeth and caves, facing the kid and pushing back as calmly as possible. No doubt, the calm will piss the kid off, but Ethan doesn't care. He won't let Bradley rattle him. Bradley can't rattle him, not like he would Pete. "No, ready to forget the book. Trust your instincts. Don't think, just do. If you think up there, you're dead. Believe me."
"My dad believed in you," Bradley retorts lowly, looking down his nose at Ethan like he's less than the dirt on his boots. "I'm not gonna make the same mistake."
And that's the last straw.
Ethan glowers at the kid, steeling himself. "You can't hurt me like that, kid."
Bradley falters for the first time, straightening as he puzzles it through. Before their separation, Bradley would've known it was Ethan and not Pete the second he saw him at the first briefing. Now, his face slackens in shock, flickering through realization, anger, horror, bitterness, and even a flash of guilt. "U-Uncle Ethan, I-"
"Oh, so it's 'uncle' again, is it?"
Bradley looks helpless, floundering for the right answer. "I'm-"
"Don't you dare apologize to me, kid. We both know you're only sorry because you got caught."
The kid swallows, nearly trembling in place.
"That idiot loves you like a son, and all you ever do is hurt him for it. You are lucky it's me here and not him, because if you'd said it to him, nephew or not, I would kick your ass. You understand?"
Bradley nods.
"Try that again."
"Y-yes, sir. I understand, sir."
Ethan gives a nod of grim satisfaction. Even with no knowledge of his work with the IMF, the kid has always been more wary of him than Pete. Though Ethan has never once in his life laid a hand on his family, Bradley knows, on some instinctual level, that of the two brothers, Ethan is far more dangerous. That same instinct made Ice take several years to warm up to him, calmed only by the knowledge that Ethan's priority is, first and foremost, his little brother's safety.
"Uncle Ethan?"
The tentative questions draws him out of his musing and he sighs. "Yes, kid?"
Bradley frowns. "Why are you here?" He winces when Ethan arches a chastising brow. "I mean, why are you here pretending to be Maverick? Did you make him go home for the night, or...?"
For a moment, Ethan considers not telling Bradley the truth. For all he hates that Bradley and Pete are on the outs, he doesn't want to guilt Bradley into coming home. Pete always says that if it's going to happen, it'll be on Bradley's terms. Getting him to do anything for himself has forever been a forgone conclusion. Pete doesn't care about his own needs.
It's a problem.
The only issue is that if Ethan lets Bradley do things on his terms and at his pace, they'll never reconcile.
"Pete's in a coma. Has been since last week."
Bradley flinches back, eyes wide. "What? Why? What happened?"
Ethan tries not be mean, but his nephew has been hurting his little brother for a decade and half and he's going nuts trying to do damage control on a relationship that isn't his to fix. "Why do you care? You wouldn't mourn if he'd checked out, so what does it matter?" He steps away from Bradley, ready to leave if that blank look is all his nephew is going to give him.
Anger rises on Bradley's face first, like an instinct, but despair quickly replaces it. He blanches. "No, wait! Wait. Please, I-" He swallows again, peering down at his feet when his eyes turn shiny. "I didn't mean it."
"Could've fooled me." Ethan crosses his arms. "Would've fooled him."
"I'm sorry. I was- I was just scared. Please, Uncle Ethan. Don't go." Bradley takes a step closer, then halts, as though unsure he's allowed to go even that far. "Don't go. Tell me, please."
Ethan works his jaw, trying to pretend he never saw those damn doe eyes that Goose was always so famous for on his nephew's features. "Classified."
"Then, tell me what you can."
A look of reproach forms on Ethan's face.
Bradley flinches again, far more mildly, but he doesn't relent. He's so stubborn, just like someone else Ethan knows. "Please, Uncle Ethan. I swear, I didn't mean it."
Curse his brother's soft fucking touch.
"I'll take you to see him, but only if you think you can keep that temper of yours in check. Your other uncles are going to be there whether you like it or not." Ethan lifts a warning finger. "Do not test me, kid. If you pick a fight, you'll be out of there so fast, your head will spin. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
Ethan sighs, bowing his head and shaking it even as he motions for Bradley to follow him. "Come on. We'd better get going. It's a couple hours out."
Bradley skulks after him, head down. He only raises it again when they get out to the parking lot and he spots Ethan's civilian vehicle, a plain 05' Impala in an everyday silver that blends in perfectly with everything else in the parking lot. As long as no one looks under the hood, Ethan pretty much has the perfect cover vehicle.
"Well, that's a dead giveaway that you're not Mav. No bike. Should've known."
The look Ethan shoots him is nothing short of impatient and he places his hand on the driver's side window to unlock everything. Yeah, you should have, kid. "Just get in."
Cowed, Bradley ducks his head and lowers his long limbs into the passenger seat. He doesn't dare speak the entire ride, and Ethan puts forth no effort to turn on the radio to make his life easier. By the time they arrive at the hangar, Bradley has curled on himself, looking half his usual size and slightly sick.
Ethan shuts the car down and leans back against his seat, tipping his head against the headrest and sitting quietly with his nephew for a bit. When the kid sniffs, Ethan breaks the silence. "I don't hate you, you know."
Bradley clenches his jaw, peering down at his lap.
"None of us do, least of all Pete. He wouldn't give two shits what you say to him as long as you're there and alive to say it." Ethan lets the words hang for a bit before continuing. "I get it. You're upset, have been for a long time. It's hard to let go, but the rest of us guys, we.... We have a responsibility, not just to Pete but to you, to remind you that you can't just say whatever you want and get away with it."
"I told you that I didn't mean it," Bradley answers weakly.
"I know, and I believe you, but, kid.... How would you feel if you'd said that to him and he decided that if no one's going to mourn him, then he'd just unburden us?"
Bradley's eyes snap open. "He wouldn't-"
Ethan lifts a hand, halting the boy's words in his throat. "You can't know that. In this case, yes, you're right, and he wouldn't, but he's never exactly placed much value on himself." He squeezes Bradley's shoulder. "Kid, you have a direct line to his heart. You always have, whether you hated him or loved him. I'm his brother, but even after fifteen years away from you, you have more power over him than anyone."
The kid chews his lip and looks away as tears gather in his eyes. "I don't hate him. I'm still angry at him, but...."
"And you can be angry. You're allowed that, but remember what you're angry about. Don't drag other people into it, especially Goose. No one blames him for your dad's death more than he does."
"I know," Bradley murmurs, sniffling.
The shame in those two words makes it clear the kid did know. He knew all too well, and he used the knowledge on purpose. Ethan hates to admit it, but he was the one who taught the kid to hit where it hurts when cornered.
"Come on, kid," Ethan says gently. "Let's go see your dad."
Bradley scrubs his eyes and nods, following Ethan out of the vehicle and heading for the hangar doors. All the vehicles but one that were here last week are gone now, so Ethan assumes Pete's being watched by a ghost crew at the moment—probably for the better. The car looks like Slider's little Toyota and the plates match the observation. Not that he thinks anyone would drive all the way out here to hurt his brother, but paranoia is a hard thing to shake after so many years as an IMF agent.
When Ethan opens the door, a familiar voice calls to him from the back of the space where they put Pete. "Ethan? That you?"
"Yeah, it's me, Ron."
"Good. I heard from Hondo that today was pretty bad. He and Ice are worrying, as usual, and they told me to go get you if you didn't show up before too long."
Ethan chuckles, glancing at Bradley over his shoulder. The kid looks a little apprehensive, but not like he's about to turn tail. "Sounds like them. How's Pete? Any change?"
Slider steps out of the back room, opening his mouth to answer only to freeze when he sees the kid. "Bradley?"
Bradley shuffles nervously. He picks anxiously at the sleeve of his jumpsuit where it's tied around his waist. "Um.... Hi, Uncle Slider."
The retired RIO tilts his head, opening his mouth as if to scold before really taking the kid in. His brow furrows in concern. "You've been crying. What happened?"
"G-LOC, birdstrike, and then I happened," Ethan answers. "Someone got a little testy with me."
"And you, being you, couldn't not give him a piece of your mind. Makes sense."
Bradley shifts his weight from foot to foot.
Slider clears his throat, stepping aside to free up some space in the doorway. "Right, well.... You came all this way. Might as well see Mav, huh?"
Ethan hums. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him. So?"
"Luther came and took him off the heavy sedatives earlier this week. Said he had somewhere to be but to tell him if anything happens. So far, Mav's been the same, just twitching a bit more in his sleep."
"He hasn't woken up?"
Slider shakes his head. "Not yet."
Ethan moves to stand at the foot of his brother's bed, eyeing the softly beeping monitors before focusing fully on his little brother. Rough as he is, Pete does look better. The bruise under his left eye has faded into a greenish color and his split lip is pretty well healed. The bruises peeking out of the collar of his shirt have also started to turn yellow at the edges, aided in their steady progress by the induced coma and actual rest Pete is so prone to avoiding. He's still in a sling, an icepack pressed carefully to his left shoulder and a couple more against his ribs. Two fingers on that same hand are splinted together. Finally, the dual clips holding a back brace snugly to Pete's spine rest under his hands.
Bradley's entrance is obvious thanks to the sharp intake of breath from behind Ethan. "Fuck, he-.... What happened?"
Slider rests a hand between Bradley's shoulder blades. "He ejected out of an experimental aircraft intended to reach hypersonic speeds."
"And? Did it?" Bradley croaks. "I'm assuming he did it."
"He did. You know Mav. Hit Mach 10.4 before critical engine failure forced him to punch out." The smile Slider offers him is tense. "Fastest man alive. I can't really share anything else with you, but.... Yeah. Fastest man alive."
Bradley huffs out a soft laugh, resting a hand on top of Mav's feet over the blanket. "Course, he is."
Ethan moves around the side of the bed, placing a gentle hand on Pete's forehead. It still unnerves him to see Pete so still. "Hey, Pete. Hope you're enjoying your catnap, because you're going to be in so much trouble once you're awake. That, and you'll have the surprise of your life when you see your damn kid. He's an obnoxious little shit, if you can believe it." He tosses a wry look Bradley's way. "I wonder where he gets that from."
The flush on Bradley's cheeks isn't quite embarrassed enough to hide how upset he is to see Pete so banged up. He sniffs softly, leaning into Slider's hand when it settles on his shoulder.
"Really has just been a rough day, huh, kiddo?" Ron asks quietly.
The emotion and allowance despite everything in Ron's tone is enough to finally break Bradley. The first sob heaves out of his chest as little more than a choked inhale, but it opens the floodgates for a storm that's been years in the making. Ethan tugs the chair Ron must've been sitting in closer to Pete's bedside while Ron himself eases Bradley into it, letting the kid tuck himself into Pete's good shoulder and just cry. Bradley clings, trembling. He grips Pete's shirt in his right hand and drags the other through his own hair, keeping his arm hooked over his head as if trying to hide himself.
Ethan pats his side and leaves him be, motioning Slider toward the door. He doesn't go far, wanting to be close enough to hear the monitors if anything goes wrong. He doesn't have to work not to listen in. There's nothing to listen to beside his nephew's crying. For a long time, Bradley's whimpers and whines are the only sounds. Ethan hates every second and Slider clearly does, too.
His eyes go wide when the silence is broken by a groggy voice. "S' wrong, baby goose?"
Of fucking course, Pete would wake up for Bradley.
What an ass.
"Dad?!"
Ethan pokes his head in enough to watch Bradley fuss and tell Pete not to move. It's obvious Pete is still incredibly dazed by the painkillers he's on, but that doesn't stop him from groaning out a slurred question. It doesn't make sense in the least, but he should get points for trying.
Slider sighs, exasperated. "What a little shit, huh?"
"Agh, fuck-"
At the pained exclamation and the shriek of the monitors, Ethan steps inside, tugging Bradley, panic, teary face, and all, towards Slider. Pete whines, his free hand reaching for Bradley until Ethan wraps it in his own. He's certainly awake now.
"Easy, Pete. Don't move. Everything's okay."
"B-Brad's cryin'," Pete insists, his chest heaving. "He's cryin', E."
Ethan quiets his brother, knowing even without being asked that those words were a plea for him to fix it and fix it right the fuck now. "It's okay, brother. He's just had a rough day, and seeing you in a bad way is the icing on top of a pretty shitty cake, Pete."
"What's happenin'?"
"Special training detachment. It was supposed to be taught by you, but you had to go and blow yourself up, so I'm wearing your wings. There were a couple accidents today-" Ethan raises an appeasing hand before Pete can freak out. "Neither of which he was involved in. He's rattled, but he's all right."
The monitors calm somewhat, but not entirely. Pete tilts his head, taking a few deep breaths in through his nose and exhaling through his mouth in an effort to calm himself. Ethan smiles when he relaxes a little on his own.
"How's your pain, Mav?" Slider asks, drawing closer with Bradley in his arms.
Pete shrugs as well as he can with his good shoulder. "Only hurts... when I breathe."
Slider rolls his eyes, but, for obvious reasons, Bradley doesn't seem to think that's very funny. He drops back into the chair, curling his knees up to his chest and watching the entire time Ethan resituates the icepacks and adjusts the pillows behind his brother's head and shoulders. Bradley leans back onto the bed the instant Ethan pulls away. Pete certainly doesn't mind Bradley's sudden clinginess, but he's definitely at his wit's end with the sudden turnaround. His shaky fingers lift and fall onto Bradley's curls, carding through them in a state of absent shock.
"All right, give me a number, Pete," Ethan murmurs. "How bad?"
"Mm, not... not bad just layin' here. Four... ish."
Slider hums. "How about when you moved a minute ago? How bad was it then?"
"Six? Maybe seven?" Pete's brow crinkles. "S' hard to.... I moved too fast. Surprised me, was all. Hurt."
"I'll bet it hurt," Ethan huffs. "That's what you get for picking a fight with the atmosphere at Mach 10." He rests his hand on top of Pete's where it still resides in Bradley's hair. "What the hell were you thinking, Pete?"
Bradley shudders, lifting his head a little to see how his dad responds.
"A-Admiral Cain," Pete answers hesitantly.
Ethan scoffs, not even bothering to let his twin continue. "Well, fuck. That asshole again? He's hated your guts for years. How'd he get involved with Darkstar?"
"Wanted our budget."
Slider frowns. "That's... strange. The Darkstar project would never have been under his purview. It'd take more than a whim decision to steal a contract or funding from Lockheed Martin." He tugs his phone out of his pocket. "You don't happen to remember anyone telling you who sent the pick-up for you at the hospital, do you? Hondo said you'd wandered back to civilization on your own and called him before apparently passing out."
"The hospital's... blurry. Think I remember punching a doc, but I don't remember being picked up."
Bradley shoots a glance Slider's way. "Why does who sent the pick-up matter?"
"Well, because if it wasn't Admiral Cain, and Admiral Cain didn't order a physical for Ethan after he took your dad's place, then Ice can bring him up on neglect and endangerment of fellow officers."
"It was Hondo," Ethan answers. "He directed the search and rescue teams. By the time Pete called, Ice's orders recalling him to Top Gun had already come down the grapevine, so Hondo called me and then I called Ice to tell him what was going on. And, no, before you ask, Cain did not send me to medical, although I'd like to think I made a decent effort at looking shell-shocked on your behalf."
Pete hums out a tired laugh. "Good for you."
Slider reaches down to pat the younger man's knee. "Hey, pipsqueak. I'm gonna slip out and call Ice real quick. We've got some work to do, evidently. He'll be glad to hear you woke up."
"Um.... Tell him I say hi?" Bradley asks softly.
"Of course, kid," Slider answers, his expression warming a few more degrees.
Ethan can't particularly blame him for having been skeptical about the kid's presence. At the moment, he's more worried about what might come from this after the fact. A bad day is a bad day in the end, but if Bradley thinks he's going to get to walk away again once he no longer needs Pete, he's got another thing coming. Ethan doubts it'll be a problem, but he plans to give the kid a warning anyway.
For now, he lets Bradley and Pete sit together in the quiet. Tomorrow, the team will need to go back to training, and by the end of the week, they'll be flying into enemy territory at supersonic speeds. Ethan will need everyone at their best, including Bradley.
Everything will shake out okay. He'll make sure of it.