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After the uranium mission, where Bradley had been saved by and saved Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, his estranged father figure, things were going good. They had some time to talk afterwards, while on the way back to the States, and the two of them were doing well. Maverick had explained why he pulled Bradley’s USNA application, and while it still hurt, Bradley understood.
By a feat of luck, Bradley and Maverick had retained only minor injuries. Mav had a slight concussion, and Bradley had a dislocated shoulder. The medical staff on the boat had looked them over, but after returning to the States, both men were subjected to more doctors, though luckily not for long. Once they had been cleared, Maverick decided to head home, and Bradley headed to the hangar, where he knew the rest of the Daggers were debriefing.
As soon as he opened the door, he knew something was up. Cyclone was there, but he looked even more tense than usual, and all of the Daggers were sitting ramrod straight, in a way Bradley had only ever seen people do when his other father figure, Admiral Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. It was the kind of tension that happened when people were told to be casual by someone of a far higher rank than them.
Everyone was debriefing, but they kept looking to the side, to someone Bradley wouldn’t be able to see without walking through the open door. Taking a breath, he did so, hoping against hope that it wasn’t Iceman. Bradley wanted to reconcile with the man, wanted to apologise and have a conversation like he had with Mav, but he had hoped that could happen after he had had a good night's sleep.
Unfortunately, Bradley had never been a lucky person. He walked into the giant space and looked to his right to meet the glare of one of the men that raised him. Snapping to attention, he saluted, trying to act as he would towards any other highly decorated admiral. At least until they were alone. The admiral seemed to be of the same opinion.
“At ease, Lieutenant.” Ice said, before turning to Cyclone and the rest of the Daggers, who were all watching the exchange. He addressed Cyclone. “Lieutenant Bradshaw will be back to debrief shortly.”
With that, he turned and walked through the still open door, leaving Bradley to follow after him. Before doing so, Bradley caught the looks on his friends’ faces. Most were confused, some surprised, and Phoenix was sending him a look that clearly said we’ll talk about this later. He then turned and hurried to follow Iceman, who was exhibiting the same cold qualities that had earned him his callsign.
Bradley was nervous. The last time he had seen Ice was over a decade and a half prior, when Bradley had stormed out of the house, vowing to never forgive his fathers for getting his USNA application pulled.
He deeply regretted that day, but hadn’t been able to apologise until after the mission with Mav, a mixture of shame, stubbornness, pride, anger, and the fear that it was too late holding him back.
The last time he had seen Ice acting like this was much before that, when Bradley had been caught sneaking back into the house at 2am as a sixteen year-old. Bradley could still remember the lecture he had been subject to for that, not to mention the sore backside.
They stopped outside of Maverick’s office. Bradley shouldn’t have been surprised—Mav and Ice had been together since before Nick Bradshaw had died—but somehow he was. Ice held the door open for the younger man, following him inside and closing the door behind them. For a moment, they stood in silence, Ice still holding the door handle, resting his forehead on the door, and Bradley decidedly looking anywhere but his pseudo-father. Then Ice turned around, and by the look on his face, Bradley knew he was in for it.
“Bradley Bradshaw, what on earth were you thinking?” Ice exclaimed. “Pete got shot down saving your life, and you decided to immediately go risk it again? Did you really think that was what he wanted you to do when he took that missile for you, Bradley?”
Bradley waited a moment, not knowing if he was expected to answer. When it became evident that he was, he bowed his head, looking at the ground.
“No, sir.” He muttered. He felt like a little kid again, being chewed out by Ice for doing something reckless, except that this time there was no Maverick there to bail him out, because Maverick surely had his own version of this coming. Bradley briefly wondered if this was why Maverick had decided to head home instead of joining the rest of the team—to save the lecturing for later—but his thoughts were interrupted.
“I know you know how to speak clearly, Bradshaw. I’ll ask again. Do you think Maverick wanted you to risk your life saving him?” Ice rephrased the question.
“No, sir!” Bradley said, louder and much clearer. No one could question that Ice was military.
“Then why did you do it? You knew it was dangerous, you had been given direct orders to leave Maverick behind, you knew it wasn’t what Mav wanted, and yet you did it anyway. Why?”
“I had to.” Bradley said simply. When Ice raised his eyebrows, he continued. “I couldn’t lose him without apologising. I couldn’t—I can’t lose him. You would have done the exact same thing and you know it. You’re chewing me out for saving him, but what if I hadn’t? Because I know damn well that you can’t lose him, either, Po—sir.” The word Pops had been on the tip of his tongue, but Bradley held it in. He still didn’t know if he could be forgiven for his seventeen years of absence.
“You’re right.” Ice surprised Bradley by saying. “I would have done exactly the same thing if I was there. But I wasn’t, and I didn’t. You were. You did.”
“What difference does it make?!” Bradley threw up his arms. “Why are you so mad when you admit that you would have done it, too!?”
“Because I almost had to bury you, Bradley.” It was barely audible, barely a whisper, but Bradley heard it. He heard the emotion behind the words, the way Ice—no Tom’s voice cracked with it—and Bradley softened, his arms falling back down to his sides.
This was the man that Bradley knew, the man who had raised him. In the cockpit, he was ice cold, but with those that he loved, it was the complete opposite.
“I can’t lose him, but I can’t lose you, either. Not on a mission that I had a part in. I made Maverick teach you because I knew he was the best chance you had at surviving it. I could have told him not to pick you, but I knew he couldn’t handle losing you again, so I told him to bring you on the mission. I told him to bring you and you almost died, Bradley. I’m mad because you scared me. I don’t think I would survive it if you died. I wouldn’t survive if either of you died, but you especially. You’re my Bradley Bear.”
Bradley swallowed around the lump in his throat, but the admiral had no such qualms. Tears dripped down his face, and seeing it was the last straw. Bradley launched himself forward, burying his face in his Pops’ shoulder, sniffling.
“I’m sorry, Pops.” He muttered, and this time he wasn’t reprimanded for it. “I’m sorry for leaving, for all the things I said. I’m sorry for not being there when you were sick, and for acting like I didn’t care, because I do, I swear I do. I’m so, so sorry, Pops.”
The man who hugged him back wasn’t the same as the one who had fought MiGs, who had risked his life for his country and been rewarded for it with promotions and medals of honour. Instead, it was the man who had cleaned scraped knees when Bradley had fallen off his bike, who had held his hand while Bradley cried at his mother’s funeral and vowed to take care of him for the rest of his life. This wasn’t the Navy’s Admiral Kazansky, it wasn’t the flyboys’ Iceman, it wasn’t even Maverick’s Tom. It was Bradley’s Pops, who had been looking out for him for as long as he could remember.