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Riding along the long road that curves up to Ice’s house, Maverick is conflicted. He hasn’t seen Ice in person in over a year, and he should be overjoyed. But he knows his oldest friend too well to think he’ll be allowed to ignore this mess with Bradley a moment longer. He has no doubts whatsoever about which incident prompted Ice to summon him, and he’s reluctant to face him, knowing that he’ll be forced to confront a matter he’d really rather not dwell on. He’s rarely felt so unsure of himself, of his ability to carry out a job, and he knows Ice will spot it instantly. Still, he thinks grimly, he’s learned all too thoroughly in the past that ignoring a summons from the Admiral is not an option. Jumping from the Kawasaki, he heads up towards the house. He knows it’s futile, that they’re expecting him, but he has a brief moment where he deludes himself that there will be no one home, that he’ll be allowed to return back to base.The universe does not cooperate, and he spies Sarah Kazansky through the glass. Smiling at the sight of her, he walks straight through the door, pulling her into an embrace. She’s been a rock by Ice’s side for over two decades now, and he’s become very fond of her. They part, and he looks around the entryway. Little has changed. He spies the familiar photos of Ice’s extensive family and is touched to see that a photo of a young Ice and Maverick still stands among them. Turning to take a proper look at Sarah, he’s struck by how sad she looks and how deep some of the worry lines around her eyes have become. “Maverick,” she says, and in an instant, he knows what’s wrong and just why Ice has been so dependent on texts for the past months. Ice had a battle with cancer back in his late thirties, but he’s long been in remission, and he honestly hadn’t thought about it in years.“It’s come back?” he asks Sarah, hoping that he’s wrong. She nods. “No one knows. There’s nothing else they can do. Even speaking is painful now.” “Sarah, I’m so sorry,” Maverick replies helplessly, leaning forward to hug her. After a moment she releases him and offers a weak grin. Wiping tears from her eyes, she turns to disappear into the garden. Maverick heads in the opposite direction, letting his feet carry him on the familiar path to Ice’s office. It’s unusual to be walking this path without an acute feeling of being in trouble, but Mav would almost trade it for the sense of dread it’s been replaced by. Walking into Ice’s office, he’s met with the sight of the man sitting behind his desk, watching his grandchildren play in the garden. “How’s my wingman?” Maverick quips as he enters the room and pulls a chair up to the side of the desk, trying to inject a note of levity that sounds forced even to him. Ice turns to type on a keyboard, and it’s only then he notices the thick bandages that circle his throat under the scarf he’s wearing. Fuck he thinks, it must be bad. The keyboard clicks and the words “I want to talk about work” appear on the screen.“Please, don’t worry about me,” Maverick urges, thinking that, of course, Ice wants to help fix his latest mess, even now. “What can I do for you?”Ice says nothing, pointing at the words on the screen with an obstinate look on his face.“Alright,” Maverick says, looking up at the ceiling, and then down at his hands, anywhere but right at ice. “Well,” he starts, “Rooster is still angry with me about what I did.” “You were protecting him. You did the right thing.” Ice types back. Mav runs his hand through his hair, sighing. He’d thought so too once. Ice had convinced him after a rather… painful conversation, but face to face with Rooster’s anger, he’s not so sure. “I thought he would eventually understand why. I hoped he’d forgive me.” Mav admits, thinking despairingly of the look of anger that comes onto the young man’s face whenever he enters a room. Whatever that is, it isn’t forgiveness, and long days working together have shown him no signs that will change anytime soon. “There’s still time,” scrolls across the screen. Maverick shakes his head. “The mission is less than three weeks away. The kid’s not ready.” “Then teach him,” appears and Mav swears he can feel the frustration from the typed words alone.“He doesn’t want what I have to give,” Maverick says bitterly.Ice waves a hand that communicates clearly what he thinks of that statement, bullshit.“Ice, please,” Maverick begs, “don’t ask me to send someone else to die. Please don’t - don’t ask me to send him. Send me”Ice looks at him, face full of compassion. “It’s time to let go,” he types. For a moment Mav is struck dumb. “I don’t know how,” he whispers.Ice stares at him for a long moment, face blank, and then resumes typing. “I’m going to help you. Bend over the desk.” “Ice, no,” Mav splutters, “you’re sick! You can’t-”Ice waves an authoritative hand at him, and pulls himself up to standing surprisingly easily. “Problem with throat,” he manages, “not arm.” He points at the desk. “Over.” Hardly believing the turn this conversation has taken, Maverick does as he’s asked, even pulling his pants down to mid-thigh, not wanting to make Ice try and talk again. Ice swivels the monitor around to face him, and taps the words on the screen. “It’s time to let go.” There’s a sound of a drawer being opened and then closed. Mav doesn’t hear the creak of the leather strap, so surmises it’s probably Ice’s brush-sized paddle. It's not quite the strap, but it's bad enough. The first hit lands, firm and direct, Ice giving him no warm-up. The impact stings sharply, pulling Maverick out of his head and back into the present. The sound of the paddle is stark in the quiet room, cutting through his spiralling thoughts with a simple clarity.Ice doesn’t need words; each swat is deliberate, forcing Maverick to release a piece of his frustration and self-doubt with each one that lands. The paddle lands again and again, hard and precise, Ice’s aim as steady as ever despite his illness. The sting spreads from the spot of contact, sinking into Maverick’s muscles with a burn that he can’t ignore.Maverick grips the edge of the desk tightly, breathing hard, feeling the weight of the moment as much as the sting of the paddle. Ice isn’t simply disciplining him; he’s communicating in a language of their own, one that goes beyond words on an outdated screen. It’s grounding, pulling Maverick from his doubts about the mission and the guilt he still feels towards Rooster.Ice puts a hand on his shoulder, pushing him up further over the desk, and starts landing sharp, pointed swats to his upper thighs. These have him hissing and pushing himself up on his toes.“Let go,” Ice says hoarsely, an overwhelmed by the pain, Mav does“I’m not a teacher Ice,” he says, “I’m a fighter pilot, a naval aviator.” He pauses. “It’s not what I am, it’s who I am. How do I teach that? ” Ice applies a pair of strong swats to his thighs, and encouraged, Maverick carries on.“Even if I could teach it, it’s not what Rooster wants, it’s not what the Navy wants. That’s why they canned me the last time. The only reason I’m still here, is you.”The swats resume, demonstrating with breathtaking clarity what Ice thinks of that, and Mav cries out at a particularly fierce one. “Fuck! Okay, I know, I know. I - if I send him on this mission, he might never come home,” he forces out, carrying on before he loses his nerve or Ice resumes his steady swats. “And If I don’t send him, he’ll never forgive me! Either way, I could lose him forever.” He feels a tear roll down his cheek, and as if he can sense it, Ice places the paddle on the desk and helps Mav to his feet.Ice taps the screen, emphasising the words written there once more. “It’s time to let go.” Maverick nods, feeling the truth of them at last. “I know, I know,” he says, letting out a long breath.Ice places his hand on Mav’s shoulder, his grip firm “The Navy needs Maverick. The kid needs Maverick.” Ice forces out, his voice hoarse. “That’s why I fought for you. That’s why you’re still here.” For a second, Maverick doesn’t know what to say. He still doesn’t believe he deserves Ice’s steadfast belief in him, but still feeling the sting in his behind he knows better than to say so. Then a thought occurs to him. “You knew Rooster was on this assignment before you chose me, didn’t you?”Ice gives him a grin that’s so similar to the Iceman of their younger years that Maverick is completely disarmed. Swallowing the myriad of questions this raises, he settles for instead pulling Ice into a hug. “Thank you Ice,” he manages when they eventually part, “for everything.”Ice nods. He turns and opens the dreaded drawer in his desk, pulling out the paddle and strap.Maverick feels his eyes widen, and Ice smiles, waving his hand. “Not for you, for Rooster.” he mouths, extending them out towards him. “I’m not sure I-” ‘You can and you will,” Ice rasps.Sighing, knowing the man will get his way, Maverick takes the implements, holding them gingerly.“You’re a warrior, Ice, a fighter,” he says, worried by the implication that Ice will no longer need the hated things.Ice sighs, and it’s clear to Mav he thinks otherwise.“One last thing,” he forces out, “who’s the better pilot, you or me.?” Maverick grins, reminded vividly of Ice at twenty-five. “This was a nice moment. Let’s not ruin it.” Ice crosses back to the desk and sits down at the keyboard. “You know what you have to do,” he types, shooting a meaningful glance at the implements in Mav’s hand.Maverick stands there, gripping the paddle and strap, feeling their weight. He’s unsure if he’ll ever find the courage to use them, but he owes it to Ice to at least consider it. Perhaps he even owes it to Rooster. He’s sure as hell been asking for it these past few days.His eyes meet Ice’s, and Maverick realises with astounding clarity that it’s likely his old reind won’t get better; this is their goodbye in all but name.It’s on him to carry on Ice’s legacy, to do right by Rooster, to knock some sense into the man.Ice gives him a small nod as if to say, “You’ve got this,” and points towards the door. Maverick turns to go, pausing at the doorway. “I’ll take care of him,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.Ice watches him with that familiar, steady gaze, a faint smile on his lips. It’s enough, and Maverick knows he won’t look back again, that if he does he’ll lose it completely. The door closes softly behind him, and he walks away, back to his waiting motorcycle.As he rides along the bay, he finds twenty-five-year-old memories of his time at Top Gun flashing through his mind, populated by the ever-present figures of Ice and Goose. As he thinks back to one particularly memorable afternoon, a plan comes into his mind. So far, he’s been training the pilots the Navy’s way. But perhaps Ice is right, perhaps he has something left to show them. Perhaps it’s time to teach them what being a fighter pilot is really about. He needs to create a team, and for that he thinks, he’ll be needing a football.