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desert-fern · 1 year

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A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 3: Intel

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

*GIF is from Pinterest, not mine*

A/N: Love you all so much, thank you for reading! Part 3 is set immediately after the cut in part 2, so feel free to go back and read part 2 if you forgot what went down!

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (If missed anything, let me know!)

Word Count: 2.0k

Read on Wattpad or AO3

Masterlist >> Part 2 >> Part 4

===

“I saw that Sir. New intel on al-Hameed’s location?”

“Yep,” he replied. “Satellite imaging confirmed his arrival outside Ash Shamli. Khrushov and Osmund are him.”

Bear blinked in surprise. “Khrushov? Like Mikael Khrushov? The arms dealer?”

Harris nodded. “The very same. Air Force radar in Riyadh noted al-Hameed’s presence two days ago in Saudi.” He paused, grabbing a file off of his desk and began to flip through it. “It’s estimated that the pair and their entourages will be in Saudi Arabia for the foreseeable future as Khrushov is now wanted in Belarus as well as Central and Eastern Europe on several charges of arms dealing, terrorism plots, and more. Osmund, on the other hand, is wanted in over 20 countries for theft of government secrets and is behind several data leaks from major foreign governments.”

“So what does this mean for us?” Bear asked. Scenarios were running through her mind, possible alterations to their plans, supplies, and personnel were now at the forefront. “Will this be a collaboration with the Air Force? Because you know my history with them, Sir.”

“As of now, Commander, we have very little information on what this means. All I can advise you and your team to do is prepare for a joint operation. Extra weapons drills, covert training, the works,” Shark told her, his face grim. “I am assigning your team a detonation expert in the likelihood of you needing them.”

Bear just nodded, her face schooled into the most neutral look she could muster. “One more question. You mentioned a joint operation, who is joining us?”

Rear Admiral Harris nodded. “That is true. The USS Abraham Lincoln is heading out in a few weeks. I believe that Busan is their destination. Our inland target of, well…I trust you to fill everyone in at the meeting tomorrow.” He paused, fingers tapping on the desk in front of him. “Long story short, we have incoming air support to help us with a few fly overs. They have their own mission, but Admiral Simpson has okayed a squadron as backup for a brief interval while we do extra recon and then again as air support.”

She blinked. “Sir, pardon the question. But are we sure that’s wise? Riyadh is a US Air Force base. Navy pilots and the Air Force don’t get along. I’d rather not be caught up in the middle of a military pissing contest.” Bear made eye contact with Rear Admiral Harris and saw that arguing was futile. “I will make plans to speak with the officer in charge asap, Sir. After the meeting tomorrow.”

“See to it that you do, Commander. You have always yielded results, I see no reason for you to disappoint me. You are dismissed.” Harris waved her off as he returned to his paperwork, leaving Bear to retreat from the office.

As she walked off, it felt like her thoughts had been out through a blender. They were scrambled and whirling out of control, but for right now, there was nothing to be done. So she put them aside for the moment and hurried to her car, tossing her stuff inside and heading off to the bar where she would meet Phoenix. God she needed a distraction.

===

For some inane reason, they had gone to the Hard Deck and it appeared that nearly every other Navy member on base had the same idea. “Remind me why we decided to come here?” Bear yelled over the din. She elbowed past a few women, ignoring the indignant yelps and cries of them as she shouldered her way through.

“That was my bad! Sorry!” Phoenix yelled back. “But hey, we can just leave!”

“Grab a drink first? Then outside?”

A thumbs up from Phoenix, and she watched the pilot redirect herself out the door and onto the beach. Bear grimaced at the amount of people around her, the volume of everyone who’d packed themselves into the bar made it hard for her to keep track of everything going on. Sniper’s instinct, her Lieutenant had called it. She was hyper aware of everything around her and it was almost too much.

“You must be Bear!” Penny yelled over the noise, wiping a ring off the bar top. “What can I get you?”

The Seal snorted. Word traveled fast when pilots were involved. “Yep. Can I grab a beer and a lemonade from you?”

“For sure. Your tab?”

Bear gave her a thumbs up, and the older woman passed the drinks over a few minutes later. “There you go.”

“Thanks Penny.” She gave a quick wave before slipping back through the crowd, effectively disappearing. Once outside, Bear took a deep breath, relishing in the fresh air and the lack of noise.

She found Phoenix sitting in the sand a little ways away staring out at the water. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks,” came the reply as the pilot took the offered bottle. “What did you get?”

“Lemonade.”

“I swear sometimes that you and Bob are the same person,” Phoenix said, shaking her head in laughter. “You don’t drink?”

“I try not to,” Bear chuckled, shrugging as she did. “I hate the way alcohol tastes and I really hate the fact that it makes me less aware of what’s going on. But that’s just me.”

Phoenix hummed. “Fair enough.” She took a sip of her drink before setting it down in the sand. “What’s the deal with you and Bagman? Both of you were acting a little weird this afternoon.”

“It’s nothing. Pretty sure he’s just trying to piss me off,” the Seal replied, rolling her eyes. “And I’m not about to let him win.”

“Maybe. But it’s definitely more than that,” the pilot pressed. “I think that he’s into you.”

Bear choked on her lemonade. After a coughing fit, she managed to wheeze out “What?”

“Hangman, Jake, whoever, thinks that you, Bear, the Navy Seal, are hot as fuck and he seems to have a thing for women who have ‘resting murder face’.” Phoenix pointed at the other woman, before continuing. “And you have the best RMF I have ever seen.”

Bear just stared at her friend. “What the fuck Nix?” Disbelief was written all over her face and Bear found herself stunned at how her heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of having the cocky blonde pilot’s attention.

“I’m not wrong. And from your very dramatic reaction, I’d be willing to bet that you think he’s hot too.”

“Umm…you’re very wrong,” Bear spluttered. “But because you’re my friend, I won’t tell you how wrong you are.”

“I’m honored…” Phoenix deadpanned, taking another sip of her drink. “What happened when you left earlier?”

“CO wanted to see me. New intel for our next deployment, other than that, I can’t really say much.”

“Classified?”

“Highly.”

Phoenix nodded, looking back out at the ocean before them. “When do you head out?”

“A few weeks,” Bear replied, sipping her drink. “Heard through the grapevine that you Daggers are about to ship out too. Any idea where?”

“Nope. It’s a mission assist though, could be fun depending on who we get sent out with,” Phoenix commented. “We will meet with them tomorrow. Get a sense of the mission and see how much lifting we have to do.”

Bear opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a shout. Turning, she saw the rest of the Dagger pilots hurrying across the sand to them. “Oh great,” she pretended to grumble. She had rolled her eyes, but the gesture was fond. “When did you flyboys get here?”

“A few minutes ago,” Fanboy yelled back, beaming at her. “Why? You miss us?”

She pretended to think, humming. “Nah, I do enough babysitting as it is.”

Rooster let out a loud mock gasp, pretending to stumble backwards. “How DARE you?” He screeched breathily.

Bear made eye contact with Phoenix and the pair burst into giggles. “Oh I dare very easily,” she teased, standing up and bumping his arm with hers. “Whatcha doing out here? Thought you’d be the life of the party, Bradshaw.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Jake said jokingly as he sidled up to her. She said nothing, choosing to smirk instead. Green eyes met brown and Jake saw the amusement and mischief twinkling in them. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

“Smart man.” Bear had turned to look up at him, giving him a teasing smile in response to his words. A cough from Phoenix had Bear narrowing her eyes and giving the pilot a hard look. “No.”

Sensing the sudden burst of tension, Payback spoke up. “So Bear. Are we ever going to get the story behind that?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes!” A shout rose up from the group of pilots standing around her.

“Fine. Fine,” Bear said, giving in. “I’m called Bear, because I’m a grumpy fuck in the morning.”

A man near the back of the group who she knew to be Harvard spoke up “That’s it? Not some deep dark secret behind it?”

“Why? You don’t believe me?” Bear asked, eyebrow raised.

“We have no proof that that’s even true!” Harvard argued.

“Send Jake in, he’ll get to the bottom of it,” Rooster joked, but his laughter stopped abruptly when he caught sight of the sharp look on Bear’s face.

“More like he’d bottom her,” Coyote whispered to Phoenix, who had to turn away to hide her laughter.

“Hey!” Jake yelled, his face going red. “No. Just no.”

Bear just sent him a wink, laughing to herself as he spluttered indignantly. “Nix told me that you ship out soon. Any idea when? Because I’m out in the next few weeks.”

“Unfortunately due to the classified nature of US Naval deployments, we are unable to provide that information,” Fanboy recited in a serious voice. The tone of his voice made the group crack up, himself included, with Bear rolling her eyes in fondness.

“Okay. Okay. Guess I should have expected that,” she said with a laugh, putting her hands up in mock surrender.

“Just messing with you,” Fanboy replied, still chuckling a little. “Sometime in the next few weeks too. We have a meeting tomorrow about it. Giving us details and shit.”

“Oh fun,” Bear said, eyes shifting around the group. Coyote and Payback had started throwing rocks into the ocean, yelling about how far they could throw, their loud voices seeming to echo around them. Harvard, Halo, and a few of the others had broken off into their own group and seemed to be chatting about nothing in particular. It made her smile at the easy camaraderie between them. She knew how difficult the Navy could be and she was just glad that they had their people around them.

===

Hours later, after night had fallen and the air grew cold, Bear finally stood up and stretched. “I’m heading out guys,” she said, to the protests of a few of the pilots around her. “My meeting is early tomorrow morning and I actually have to pay attention to this one because I’m leading it.”

“Aww c’mon!” The group protested, Rooster among the loudest. He admired Bear for her strength and the take-no-shit attitude she had. Plus he found it funny when she teased Hangman to no end.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She grinned widely. “I might see you all tomorrow. But if not, I’ll see you around.” With a wave, Bear began to walk towards her car.

A shuffle behind her had her shaking her head as she continued walking. “Can I help you, Hangman?”

Jake paused, stunned at the speed at which she’d guessed it was him. “How’d you-”

“I just do,” she said with a wide grin, cutting him off. Spinning to face him with a smirk, Bear spoke again “So, can I help you?”

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?” Bear raised an eyebrow in question, looking at him curiously.

It was Jake’s turn to smirk, green eyes seeming to glitter in the night as he peered at her. “On whether or not you plan on taking my offer, Teddy.”

Her confusion deepened. “What offer?”

“You know what? Never mind. I like my dick where it is and I would like to keep it there.”

“Oh, you mean that little line in the hallway earlier,” she said, smirking. “I highly doubt you can maintain the speed I need. You seem too much like a ‘one and done’ kind of guy.”

“My mama would have me by the throat if she ever got the impression that I treated women with so little respect,” Jake replied, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Especially if I left them as unsatisfied as you must be by some of the losers on base.”

Her eyes narrowed, but this time it wasn’t teasing. Bear looked angry; her face pinched and if looks could kill, Jake would be reduced to a grease spot on the sand. “Your mama would be so disappointed in your behavior right now, Lieutenant,” she snarled, her eyes nearly slits and venom coated every syllable. “And, for the record, my “satisfaction”, as you put it, is none of your fucking business.”

“Woah. Okay, chill,” Hangman raised his hand, almost placating the woman before him. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just that you wouldn’t be wound so tight if you took me up on my offer.”

“Well, I guess I won’t be so lucky as to fall under you,” Bear shot back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should get going.” She turned and walked off, leaving a stunned Jake in her wake.

===

A/N: Kisses and hugs to my favourite editors/fangirls: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky you guys have saved my butt more times than I can count!

Taglist: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @dakotakazansky @horseshoegirl @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @lavenderbradshaw @roosterforme @bobby-r2d2-floyd @bradleybeachbabe @twsssmlmaa @footprintsinthesxnd @dempy @fandomxpreferences @gizmodear @fighterpilothoe @chaoticassidy @eli2447 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @djs8891 @rhirhikingston @sisterslytherinog @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @heli991113 @thegoddessc @sgt-barnesveins @taytaylala12 @urmom-999 @formulapierre @pinkpantheris

#a gun amonst daggers #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #Jake Seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #controlled chaos squad #callsign bruiser

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nocternalrandomness · 1 year

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USN F-35C on the flight deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln.

#Lockheed Martin #F-35 #Lightning II #USN #Naval aviation #Fighter aircraft #Stealth fighter #Military combat jet #Airplane #US Navy F-35C

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deadpresidents · 7 days

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To give a more serious answer to that earlier question about whether any Presidents were able to fly, yes, there were three who were trained as pilots.

The most famous is indeed George H.W. Bush, who was the youngest U.S. Navy aviator during World War II, and flew 58 combat missions in the Pacific during the war. He was shot down during a bombing mission over Chichi Jima, an island in an archipelago between Guam and the Japanese mainland in September 1944 and had to be rescued from the Pacific Ocean by an American submarine. That was just a few months after he was also forced to ditch his TMB Avenger bomber in the ocean -- while it still was fully loaded with the bombs for the mission he was on -- and barely escaped the plane before it exploded.

His son, George W. Bush, had a much-less decorated and much-more maligned military "career", but he was trained as a military aviator in the Texas National Guard. Bush 43's most famous flight was as a passenger while President when he landed on the USS Abraham Lincoln for the infamous "Mission Accomplished" speech, but he was definitely a trained pilot.

The first President to earn a pilot's license was actually Dwight D. Eisenhower. Despite his background as a career military officer, Eisenhower was not trained as a military aviator -- he earned a private pilot's license in 1939.

#History #Presidents #Presidential History #Presidential Backgrounds #George H.W. Bush #Bush 41 #President Bush #George W. Bush #Bush 43 #Dwight D. Eisenhower #President Eisenhower #General Eisenhower #Pilots #World War II #WWII #Pilot's license #Presidential Pilots

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ussgallifrey · 1 year

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Home for the Holidays | Part 1

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, fake dating, hurt/comfort, light mentions of divorce, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 7.5k

✦ Author's Note: Who are we blaming for this mess? Say it with me: @top-hhun ! The true enabler of all things Jake Seresin. I owe it all to you, love <3

[Master List]

The gym was nearly deserted this time of day. The USS Abraham Lincoln was a mere 48 hours away from port and the crew was anxiously anticipating their first bit of proper leave in over nine months. Your air carrier wing, however, was due to leave in the morning.

You should be packing your things and cleaning up the mess in your locker. But you felt the need to blow off some steam first. And somehow, he always knew when and where to find you.

Even with your earbuds in, you can sense his presence just before he makes himself fully known to you - hovering back by the treadmills. You let him sweat it out, finishing the final few steps of your post-workout cool down on the floor mat, your gym playlist coming to a perfect conclusion.

If he was going to seek you out during your off time, then he would have to wait.

Wiping the sweat from your brow as you stand back up, muscles aching with a pleasant burn, you pull your earbuds out one at a time before turning to face your companion. Hangman is leaning casually against the side of the squat rack now, watching you with that ever-present smirk on his face.

“So,” he drawls in that familiar accent of his, “We doing this?”

You let your eyes trail over his features for a moment, chest still heaving from the afterburn of your workout. How dare he look so put together in his flight suit while in the presence of your sweat-soaked gym clothes.

“What? Just drop trow and do it on the floor?”

You make a grab for your water bottle, taking a refreshingly cool swig before wiping your mouth dry. He doesn’t even have the decency to look fazed by the question.

“At least let me lay down a towel first since I’m not being afforded the luxury of getting dragged back to your berth like one of your other lady friends.”

His eyes narrow and his smirk grows.

Some people had ship wives when they were deployed. Jake Seresin had you.

That wonderfully strange mix of teasing flirtation and sworn rivalry that you somehow balanced between the two of you.

“Don’t tempt a man,” he grins wolfishly, uncrossing his arms and taking a step forward to meet you halfway. “Just say the word, Pita. And your dreams could just become reality.”

You scoff, sidestepping him, “What, the less-than-stellar sex or this convoluted plan you came up with?”

“We - ” he quickly reiterates, waving an accusing finger between you both, “The convoluted plan that we mutually came up with, thank you. Gotta share the credit.”

There was this thing the two of you started doing, way back in the day. The savior swoop, you think he coined it.

The whole thing started with a lovely hole-in-the-wall bar in Sydney during a week-long leave. You had been happily content minding your own business with the three other women from your squadron - Rocky, Juggs, and Barb- when in came an overly smiley Hangman, who had quickly wrapped an arm around your waist and muttered, behind clenched teeth.

“You’re my girlfriend. You’re my girlfriend and I will give you all the money out of my wallet if you sell this for me.”

You had stared at him for a long moment, followed by an affronted, “Yes, hello, Pita. Nice to see you too - ”

That was when he roughly pinched your side. A young woman appeared just a moment later with a lipstick-coated smile that seemed to fall the moment she spotted you. Realization dawned and you pulled the best obnoxious girlfriend ruse you could with six shots of vodka in your system.

At the time, it had never really crossed your mind as to why he approached you out of everyone else. Eventually, you just wrote it off as the fact that you were far more familiar with the man since you had been flying together the longest. That and you knew for a fact that any one of them would have left Hangman out to dry.

It was a thing then. A very non-recurring, once-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing.

Hangman became your cover boyfriend when a pushy marine wouldn’t seem to take a hint. You filled in when two civilians, eager to hook up with a uniformed airhead, kept him from his pool game. It was just a mutually beneficial back-and-forth for the two of you.

No feelings required. Just the occasional dropping of a honey or babe when it was necessary to sell the point, much to the amusement of your fellow aviators who loved to egg it on even more.

This little plan, however, was taking the fucking cake.

You can’t even remember who got started talking about the upcoming homecoming and eventual leave.

The Vigilantes must have pleased the big names over in the admiralty because your air carrier wing had secured ten days of leave right over the Christmas holiday. It was virtually unheard of. But your squadron had just returned from a lengthy tour and you knew at least one or two new chest candies would be heading your way soon.

But there you were with Hangman, shooting the shit in the officer’s rec room with a few other guys from the squad. Freeze was going to propose to his girl finally, Sparky had his whole family coming up from Arizona, and Cosmo was planning some big soul-searching trip to Mount Rainier.

Maybe someone had asked if Seresin was taking his girlfriend back home to visit his family - followed by several good-natured laughs. Maybe it was the obnoxious aviator himself who suggested it with a flash of clear amusement in his eyes.

Either way, here the two of you were, a day shy of flying back to Lemoore, with this massively stupid plan waiting in the wings.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s our stupid plan. An unnecessary plan, I may add. You could just tell your family that you’re not - ”

“Too late now. I told my mom you were coming - you know, when we agreed to it a week ago,” he mimics your annoyance with a great big grin.

You stare down the corridor, wondering if you could just make a run for it and avoid the conversation - and the plan - entirely.

There was a fundamental difference between doing the act to throw off an inebriated barfly and another thing entirely to fly across the country to play house for one of your families for the day.

Hangman crowds your space, staring you down with a knowing look in his bright sage green eyes. Fixing your own stare in return, you stand your ground - lips tight and eyes narrowed.

“You could literally just tell her we’re friends. Only friends.”

He laughs, outright laughs in your face then.

“And miss out on the fun? Where’s your sense of adventure, honey?” he smiles for a moment before finally relenting.

His features soften, taking a quick cursory glance around to seemingly insure your current privacy from the rest of the crew.

“Look, you’d be doing me an honest-to-God favor if you came along.”

You knew that. Hell, you had a whole conversation about it six nights ago actually. You knew Hangman’s family was a mess from the day you and him had crossed paths on the flight deck for the first time. It was just written into his very being.

“Yeah, yeah. Classic savior swoop. Pull at my heartstrings some more while you’re at it, Seresin.”

His features light up as he places a stick of gum between his lips, giving a signature smirk, “You’re gonna make a hell of an impression, Pita. I’ll give you that.”

You pat his shoulder playfully, “Thank me after I get your mother permanently off your back.”

“Will do,” he says with a sort of yes ma’am tone as he watches you walk back to officer’s country before your next debrief.

The journey back to Lemoore had been blessedly smooth flying. The raucous crowd spilled past the barrier the minute the first aviator stepped down onto the tarmac. Families and loved ones flung themselves onto their long-lost loves. Wives and girlfriends with single-stem roses, newborn babies, and weepy toddlers holding signs and tiny flags. It was a familiar, happy sight.

You watch from afar, zipping your helmet back into its carrier, and shouldering your duffle bag.

There was no point in having your family fly out just to meet you here. They were going to see you in three days anyway. Might as well save everyone on the crazy airfare for a change.

A sudden scream pulls your attention to the aviator on bended-knee, with a sobbing brunette now throwing herself into his arms.

“He almost lost the ring before we left.”

You eye Hangman as he sidles in next to you, running a hand through his helmet hair. He’s got a fond smile on his face as he watches the newly engaged couple - Freeze is walking his girl back to the hangar and she’s wrapped herself around his waist like a sloth.

“Seriously? Should start calling him Frodo,” you muse, hefting your bag higher on your shoulder.

“Think Smeagol would be more appropriate.”

You know that he can see you openly mouthing the word Nerd with an air of fake judgment. He just gives a silent head shake of a laugh and double-checks the zipper on his own helmet bag.

The two of you watch as the immediate rush of people seems to ease back, clearing the tarmac.

“So…” he grins, “We still doing this?”

Turning to get a good look at him, you take in the very teasing expression on his face. Though his eyes are too squinted from the overhead sun to get a real good take on his exact inner workings.

“Well, as fun as it would be to leave you hanging for a change - ”

He chuckles, taking a step back to grab his own duffle bag from the ground, “Admit it, Pita. You’d start to feel bad for me. With that aching heart of yours and all.”

“Hah!” you tilt your head back with a bark of laughter, “Oh, Hangman. You have no idea just how steel-coated this heart is. I would delight in seeing you hung out to dry. However, I make it a habit to hold true to my promises.”

“Good,” he nods with a surprising sureness. Plucking his signature box of toothpicks out of his pocket, twiddling with a single pick for a moment, he adds, “Because I would have hated having to chase you down and drag you back to Texas on my own.”

“Mmm, in your alpha male dreams, Hangman.”

You part ways in the parking lot with plans to catch up in three hours. It would, theoretically, be enough time to unpack the essentials, clean yourselves up, and pack a carry-on for the flight.

The on-base house has remained the same as when you left it six months prior, albeit a thin layer of dust covers parts of the room that you swear you’ll get around to cleaning before you fly back out. After your gloriously long, hot, uninterrupted shower, you manage to throw together a reasonable bag in no time flat. Rolling shirts and pants up with expert ease.

And then there’s a knock on your door, one minute before your set meet time. It makes you wonder how long Hangman was waiting around, trying to time it just right, before he came up onto the front porch.

You unceremoniously toss your bag into his arms as a way of greeting, locking the door behind you as he laughs.

“Hello to you too, darlin’.”

“Coffee,” you say by way of explanation, pushing by him. “I need coffee and food if you want to keep me from ripping your head off before we board.”

He gives a sharp nod, following after you to the waiting Chevy pickup in your driveway, “Can do. Gotta keep my girl happy.”

“Oh god,” you groan, turning to look back at him as you pull open the passenger’s door, one foot on the running board. “Are we starting that now?”

His eyes flicker with amusement as he carefully shoves your bag in behind your seat, holding the side handle as he peers up at you.

“Well, you know what they say - ” he flips the toothpick in his mouth around with the roll of his tongue, lips tugged into a smug grin around it, “Practice makes perfect.”

You blank, staring down into the all-too-confident eyes of your wingman.

“And I can still catch another flight,“ you retort with an equally Cheshire-like grin.

His smile falls in an instant, “Right, coffee for the missus.”

The howl of laughter you give is worth it as he seemingly scrambles to shut your door for you, jogging around the front of the truck, before hopping into the driver’s seat.

“I’m not a cheap date either, Seresin,” you warn, clicking your seatbelt into place. “None of that gas station stuff. I just spent months with mediocre instant brews and I deserve something to keep me awake and smiling for this little ruse.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles good-naturedly as he places his hand on the back of your seat, peering over his shoulder as he backs the truck out of the driveway.

The awkwardness hits the minute he pulls out onto the main road, just past the east entrance gate. As though the barbed-wire fence offered a semblance of safety when you were still behind the traffic barrier. But now the cloak was pulled free and you were both fully aware of the situation you were in.

You had spent the better part of a year and a half with this man, both on and off a carrier. You knew his breakfast preferences and his anal retentiveness when it came to the upkeep of both his flight gear and his hair. His argument-worthy movie choices and his pre-flight rituals. It was just a normal part of co-existing on a carrier in the middle of the ocean, you suppose.

And yet, here you were - for seemingly the first time ever - with just him in an enclosed proxy. There was no Freeze or Sparky there to break the tension with an off-the-cuff joke. No Freud to poke fun at the tension itself - should we give you two lovebirds space or do we get a free show?

No, it was just you and Hangman, in his truck, with the genuine realization that you were actually doing this hovering in your quickly sobering thoughts.

Maybe ideas had after doing a twelve-hour, start-to-finish, mission weren’t actually the best things to be acted upon.

There’s the soft hum of a splotchy country radio station that keeps coming in and out of range to fill that voided space between you. A twangy Christmas cover croons over the speakers as you stare out at the open desert landscape that surrounds the empty stretch of road.

You want to say something, anything really to break that strange note of silence.

But for once in your long career of being a give ‘em as good as they get kind of officer, you find the words surprisingly dried up on your tongue. And that doesn’t particularly bode well for the two of you if you have to spend the next forty-two hours together.

Hangman, for all intents and purposes, appears entirely unfazed by the arrangement. As he reclines back in his seat with one hand on the wheel and the other draped against the closed window, catching a bit of direct sunlight.

The only true difference, besides the civvies, is the tightened line of his lips. And his usually slicked-back helmet hair is surprisingly… fluffy, for lack of a better descriptor. You wonder if, like yourself, he only used product when it came to being in uniform or if he just didn’t have the time for it in the mad rush to get to the airport at a reasonable time.

“See somethin’ you like?”

The quip is a loud, sudden intrusion into your silent introspective. He glances over at you with a teasing smirk already in place.

You huff in abhorrence, eyes flicking back to the road in front of you - refusing to fall into an obvious trap like that.

“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” you ask instead.

He switches hands, gripping the steering wheel with his left as his right comes to rest on his inner thigh. He rubs at the denim for a moment as he seems to contemplate his answer.

“I think it might have something to do with my next month’s worth of bonuses being up for grabs.”

The smile on your face dims for a second.

You weren’t particularly interested in prying Hangman’s money from him. If it had been anyone else in the squadron, you would have found yourself in a similar situation - you were sure of it. It’s just the fact that the two of you had the practice in hand for this one strange stunt.

But you would have done the same for Sparky, Cosmo, or Freud in an instant. It wasn’t about the money, it wasn’t that kind of favor. He knew that, right?

Turning it around, you kiddingly press on, “And the free flight, free meal, and free accommodations, right?”

He cracks another look at you as you come to the first stop sign in over six miles, “You really aren’t shaping up to be a cheap date, are ya, Pita?”

“Hey,” you hold your hands up in a way that seems to say you brought this upon yourself. “You asked me, Hangman.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause my options were real ripe for the pickin’.”

The truck glides through the four-way; no other vehicle in sight.

“Well,” you lean back into the side of your seat, pushed against the window so you can really get a good look at him. “Did you even bother asking anyone else?”

You can see the thick crease of his brow as he bites down on the toothpick, eyes squinting slightly against the afternoon sun.

“Did you even think to ask Captain Manning to go in on this with you? I bet if anyone could get your mom off your back, it’d be him.”

That at least makes Hangman grin, all bright and genuine as he reaches for a pair of sunglasses attached to his visor. He fiddles them on, one-handed, before peering over at you once again.

“Oh, I have no doubt good ole Zilla would win over my momma’s heart. But the man can’t lie to save his teeth. So, excuse me for bypassing him.”

“Such little fate,” you mock.

“Nah,” he taps the steering wheel with an idle finger, “We’re here now, ’s all that matters.”

You were sure it had nothing to do with the fact that out of your squadron of thirty-eight, you were only one of four female aviators currently flying with the Vigilantes. And certainly, the only one even remotely considered to be close to Seresin.

Of course, the alternative would have been trying to convince some random girl to come along with him for the holiday. And while you didn’t doubt Hangman’s ability to pull, it was a bit of a hard sell given the time of year - even for the likes of him and his classic Ken-doll appearance. And chicks loved the Ken-doll appearance.

No, the truly worst alternative would have been making him face the company of his own family alone. The horror.

Letting the now less-than-awkward silence filter back into the cab, you settle in for the rest of the short ride into the nearest city.

The actual town of Lemoore is far more lively and bustling than the base stationed just thirteen miles west of it. Hangman easily follows your directions to a coffee shop off the main drag - immediately glancing down at his watch, as if trying to mentally calculate the maximum amount of time you could deviate from his schedule.

After parking out front, he holds the door open for you and another couple as the rich aroma of fresh brew and baked goods hits your senses. Was there ever a sweeter smell? After months at sea, with only the array of mixes in the officers’ mess to keep you going, this was like walking into paradise.

Hangman scooches in next to you in line. His sunglasses are at least clipped to the front of his t-shirt’s collar now as he peruses the colorful red and green menu with an appraising kind of look - flipping that damn toothpick of his around in his mouth as he weighs his options.

It’s still decidedly strange to be doing this with him.

While you frequently found yourself in the company of your squadron, both on and off duty, this was notably uncharted territory.

There’s a slightly stoic demeanor that Seresin has when out in public, but the minute you’re called up to the register, he’s got the biggest grin on and good old boy charm ready to go. While he ends up ordering a breakfast sandwich and a surprisingly high-sugar content pumpkin spice frappe, you go for the turkey melt and an iced coffee. He pays for it all - out of some sense of duty to the mission, you suppose - and stuffs a twenty dollar bill in the tip jar for good measure too.

The two of you hover at the end of the counter, next to the hanging snowflake decorations, while you wait for your order to finish up. He’s got his arms crossed and a downturned look on his face as he stares at the coffee shop’s patrons - couples spread out amongst the two-seater tables. A modest indie version of “Santa Baby” and the quiet hum of chatter keep either one of you from speaking until his name is called by the barista.

But as you head back outside, he stops you at the hood of the truck - his brow pinched.

“I’m not gonna be insulted if you back out, you know.”

Scrunching your lip, you say, “Good to know - ” while making a move for the passenger door, clutching your drink and carry-out bag in one hand.

“I mean it,” his voice raises slightly as he rounds his side of the vehicle, continuing the conversation from across the open doorway as you hop in. “We get to Fresno and you take a flight back home and we’ll act like this whole plan never existed.”

You wonder, briefly, where this change of heart is coming from. But you give a little nod, slotting your condensation-heavy coffee into the cup holder - it might be December but it certainly didn’t feel like it out here.

“I mean if you’re looking to get rid of me so easily…”

“That’s not - ”

Hangman groans, slamming his door closed with more force than probably necessary as he scrubs a hand down his face. He stares ahead for a moment before finally saying, in a much more even tone:

“It’s a lot to ask of someone. And I’ve been sitting here for the past twenty minutes wondering what the hell I was thinkin’ asking you to do this in the first place.”

You have the good grace to leave your sandwich wrapped up and on your lap as you turn to give your companion your full attention.

You’re reminded of the conversation the two of you had nearly a week ago.

He was just about staring daggers into his meal when you found him in the Wardroom, well past the dinner rush. There was a pen settled between his fingers like a damn cigarette that he kept twirling around as his gaze drifted past the food in front of him.

And you - like any good person would - asked him what the hell the plate ever did to him.

As you joined him at the empty table, he admitted that he had just gotten the third email that week from his mom going on and on about his future and how he’s getting older, and that the eligible dating pool is vanishing before his very eyes.

“What, is she dead set on having grandkids before she kicks it or something?” you had asked with a pitched tone.

He had just shaken his head, ruffling a hand through his hair - food long forgotten in front of him, “Nah, she’s got nine already. She just gets into a mood around the holidays. But it’s been getting on more and more like this lately.”

“Guess you got no choice but to get hitched the minute you get your boots dry.”

At least that had managed to pull a laugh out of him, even if it seemed hollow and lackluster compared to his usual booming tone.

“Nah, I’m being serious here, Hangman. Have a 72-hour marriage for show, break it off before we head back out. Just give her something for the holiday so she’ll get off your damn back for a while.”

And though it took a moment, his face had lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. As though he had made the ultimate connection in his brain and had come up with the idea all on his own. As though you hadn’t been joking in the slightest.

“Someone who could pull it off. Someone who has real-time experience with yours truly, right?”

You’re not sure how, in only a matter of an hour, Hangman had convinced you to go along with it. To play the role of doting and loving girlfriend for a one-night-only performance for his mother, of all people. But, at that exact moment, it had seemed like the greatest idea known to man. Hangman, specifically.

But here you were, only hours from hopping on a commercial flight together to put on a show for the big leagues. Was it any wonder either one of you was getting cold feet?

“Seresin.”

His eyes finally drift over to yours. His face is just about as stoic as he can make it be outside of an inspection line. But his eyes, that’s where the real trouble lies.

“I’m already here. I don’t back out of promises - even the most ridiculous kind. So, get the damn ignition started, and let’s go before we get stuck in security for the next two hours.”

He takes you in for a long contemplating kind of moment as you try to be reassuring with only your earnest expression alone. Whatever he finds there, he must deem it good enough for him and his sensibilities because not a second later the truck engine purrs back to life and he’s pulling out onto the street.

He has the good sense not to bring it up for the rest of the drive. When you pull into the airport’s parking lot, he makes a vague last-chance kind of gesture, but you just yank your bag out of the backseat and head towards the terminal entrance. He rushes to grab his own gear to catch up to you.

You discover how much of an antsy flier Hangman is when it comes to flights he’s not personally manning. Constantly checking the time, mumbling about the slow-moving lines - which you remind him is attributed to the fact that you were in an international airport, traveling five days before Christmas.

He had you rushing to get to your gate a good hour before you were even required to be there. And by that point, he was on the edge of his seat, wringing his hands, just waiting for the second your boarding party was called.

His mom snagged the two of you business-class seats for the trip the minute she heard her son would be bringing home a girl this year. You want to feel guilty about it, but you’re actually grateful for the upgrade as you stretch out into the padded seat next to him. The last thing you wanted was to be packed in with the other sardines in Economy.

The flight to Dallas is about as interesting as a FOD walk. With Hangman pulling out a tablet once you’re at cruising altitude, while you pop in your earbuds and almost immediately pass out for two hours straight.

It’s his amused green eyes that you awaken to.

The rough press of his hand against your shoulder and your last name being repeated with louder and more serious persistence. You feel a bit like a zombie as you shuffle alongside him to your next gate after disembarking. That spontaneous nap had been a bit too deep and dreamless for that short of a period, as you woke up feeling more tired than when you initially fell asleep.

There’s a nearly two-hour layover there in Dallas. But you just inch forward through the crowds until your boarding group is called and you’re back onto another plane. The skies outside the window have faded to a vibrant amethyst color, splattered with rays of gold and amber as the bright lights of the city disappear into the distance.

This flight is short in comparison, which you’re thankful for as the grime of travel seems to hang off you now. Roughly an hour out and you would finally be able to debark and collapse face-first into a hotel room.

Hangman has his tablet out again, though he seems far less interested in picking up where he left off on his E-book now. He’s got his right leg crossed over his left at the knee, anxiously tapping his foot and therefore jostling his tablet as he peers at the headrest in front of him.

He had traded for the aisle seat this time, so it takes you a moment to pull your attention away from the changing scenery of the landscape outside your window to properly notice his change in demeanor.

“Hmm?” you hum in question.

He shoots a glance at you - something coming to terms on his face - before he ultimately shoves his tablet against his side and turns as much as he can in the confines of the seat to face you properly.

“My favorite color is blue; dark blue, not sky blue. I hated all of my English classes in school. I track the Longhorns’ scores religiously when we’re out. I despise almonds in their entirety. Non-dairy substitutes are an absolute no-go.”

You stare at him for a long moment before saying, “Okay…?”

With a roll of his eyes, “We’ve been dating for however long. These are things you’d know about me at this point, right?”

“Ahhh, gotcha,” you settle against the armrest in between you both to really look into his eyes. “See, I didn’t realize that to enter your mom’s house I would have to pass the Seresin partner pop quiz first.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he pulls away, running his hand through his unkempt hair.

You kick your foot at his shin, just a playful tap really, to get his attention.

“You prefer sausage links over patties. You won’t shut the fuck up about Hudson Card and his current stats - which are shit, by the way. You suck at poker and any other card game we’ve ever played. You have a lucky pair of briefs that you wear every time we - ”

“Okay,” he quickly interrupts, holding up his hand to cut you off.

“Come on,” you grin. “We’re in too tight of a circle to not know the damn basics about each other at this point. How about, instead of playing twenty questions until we land, you tell me about the off-limits stuff.”

At the questioning raise of his brows, you elaborate.

“Any triggers words? Like, I have an uncle Edward who, if you mention iPhones, will go on an unhinged rant about 5G towers and radiation until he runs out of breath. Anything like that I should be made aware of?”

His features seem to relax at last as he rubs his hand along his jawline for a moment, “Best not mention my Dad at all. Avoid the name Gwen, if you can.”

“Stepmom?”

He nods, blowing out a long breath, “Stepmom.”

“Think I can manage that. Anything else?”

For the rest of the flight, you cover the basics of the trip. His mom, Patricia - but call her Patty - is a bit of a germaphobe.

She has two guest rooms and will gladly offer to accommodate you both for the night, but she’d actually hate it if you took her up on the offer. She’s a traditionalist when it comes to Christmas dinner; none of that fusion food at her table. She’ll sneak off to the kitchen for a not-so-sneaky drink if the conversation takes a turn at all.

But most importantly, she definitely does not want to hear about any missions he has been on, though she’s very proud of his current career.

“And where are we on the PDA scale?” you ask as Hangman grabs your bag from the trunk of the rental car.

You had been stuck at the baggage carousel for forty-five minutes, the car rental counter for another twenty, and then the drive from the southern part of Austin up to the northern part had taken over half an hour. At this point, you were done.

But, for once, you had to admit that the company wasn’t the worst to be had.

“Ehh, probably on the low side? Enough to pass as a couple but not enough to make her grab hold of the metaphorical pearls.”

You hum in understanding, noticing that he’s still got his fingers looped through the strap of your bag along with his own as you head for the side entrance of the hotel, up to your room on the third floor.

After nabbing the key card from him, you unlock the door and immediately flick on the lights - making a straight line to the double bed by the window and unceremoniously flopping down on it, face first. Your bag is dropped next to your leg, making the bed jostle slightly, but you merely grunt in acknowledgment.

You can hear his tired chuckle somewhere above you, followed by the sound of his boots being kicked off.

“Before you disappear on me again, Pita. Be a dear and take a look at that informational on the table and find us some damn food.”

Giving a lazy thumbs up in his general direction, Hangman gives a departing laugh before he heads into the bathroom - but only after securing the deadbolt on the main door first.

It takes a moment, but you finally summon the energy to pull yourself up onto your elbows. Snatching the paper brochure from the bedside table with a listing of the local attractions and restaurants. You skim the names until you find a pizza place that’s supposedly open til midnight. It was only - you glance at the radio clock - 10:46 pm, so you should be good to send in a delivery order.

“Pizza?” you call out.

You can make out the muffled what he yells back in return.

“Do you want pizza?”

Your louder query is immediately responded to with a rough I can’t fuckin’ hear you in here.

Flipping onto your side, you wait for him to emerge from the bathroom to bother communicating with him again. Pulling out your phone, you search for the restaurant and casually scroll through their menu until you hear the click of the door.

Hangman shuffles out, grabbing his abandoned hoodie from the bed and methodically folding it up, “What were you hollering about?”

“Pizza sound good?”

He grunts, nabbing his boots and moving them into a more reasonable location in front of the open closet by the door.

“Depends on the place.”

You look at the name on the webpage, “Market Street Pizzeria?”

With a nod, he pads across the room and plops down heavily on the bed opposite yours, running both hands through his hair as he seems to stifle a yawn before it can escape.

“They’re good,” lifting his hips up from the bed, he grabs his wallet out of his back pocket, rummaging for a moment before he tosses a card at your face. “Here, get whatever. I’ll just pick off anything too offensive.”

You glance down at the card before immediately slamming it down on the nightstand, “Yeah, I’ll get this one. And I hope you don’t find pepperoni and cheese too obscene for your standards.”

He stares at you for a long moment before relenting and swiping up his debit card. You eye him as he tosses his wallet down at the foot of his bed before he props the pillows up and rests back against them - grabbing hold of the TV remote.

“Should be twenty minutes,” you announce, dropping your phone down on the bed as you push yourself up into a sitting position.

He hums in acknowledgment as you unzip your bag and fish out a pair of pajama pants that you had packed near the top of your items. You disappear into the bathroom to do your business and change - staring at yourself in the mirror for a long moment. Two flights and an impromptu nap had not done you any favors and that was a fact. After splashing some water on your face, you join Hangman back in the room.

He’s got just about everything settled already. A phone charger’s meticulously looped and plugged into the bedside outlet, a toiletry bag on the left-hand side of the dresser, and his own travel bag secured away in the closet next to his boots. The efficient bastard.

When you get the notification that your delivery has arrived, he heads down to collect your food and tip the driver. He ends up sitting at the desk to eat while you sit cross-legged on the end of your bed. The news is playing on mute in the background with the closed captions turned on.

“So,” you say after taking another bite, “What’s our story, in case she asks?”

He wipes his fingers off on one of the napkins before crumbling it up into a ball and taking aim at the trash can - it lands, of course.

But then he seems to remember that you asked a question as he turns in the rolling chair, legs spread wide as he gently sways side-to-side, “Like how we met?”

You roll your eyes, licking your fingertips clean of pizza grease, “I think it’s pretty apparent how we met, Seresin. What I meant was, how long has this - ” you gesture a hand between the two of you - “been going on. I mean, you’re taking me back home for the holidays, so it’s probably pretty serious at this point.”

He gives a chuckle, tapping his fingers on his knees, “How long a period of time is considered appropriate to bring a partner home?”

“Hell if I know,” you chortle, kicking your legs down over the side of the bed as you lean back on your hands.

His brow hitches up, “What, never taken someone home before?”

You don’t like the pointedness of the question as you squint back at him, “Been a bit busy, Bagman. What about you? What’s your excuse?”

“Had a high school girlfriend, dated for three years. Had her over for Christmas our senior year.”

“No one since though?” you ask.

“Like you said,” he leans back in the desk chair, folding his hands together over his stomach, “We’ve been busy.”

You nod, letting the topic settle in front of you both.

It wasn’t unheard of for people to get together on deployment, even less so on the carrier when you were forced into a confined space with the same individuals for months at a time. Shore leave was good for an easy hook-up or two, but real relationships? Those usually only happened prior to getting your orders for the most part.

The majority of the guys you knew had gotten together with their significant others around their time at the Academy, if not even sooner. Half of them got hitched right after graduation so their girl could get a place on base before they shipped out or went to flight school. But after that? Well, there wasn’t a hell of a lot of time for regular dating.

And it wasn’t that big of a deal when your focus was on your career. People like you and Hangman were all about that life. You didn’t go through the rigors of TOPGUN just to ask to be relocated to a desk job in Pensacola so you could settle down with a nice man and have a few all-American kiddos of your own this early on in your career.

Half your squadron had someone waiting for them back home. It was just a handful of you now that were still noticeably single - happily single, you should add.

“Five months,” you finally announce.

When you’re met with a curious pair of olive green eyes, you reiterate.

“We tell her we’ve been together for five months. Long enough to be serious, but short-term enough to make it seem like we were just being cautious about announcing anything too soon to our families.”

Hangman chews on his lip, mulling over your idea before he leans forward and extends his hand for you to shake, “Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

You just shake your head as you grip his hand tightly, “Guess I need to get used to those cutesy little pet names, huh?”

He laughs, pulling back to scratch at his chin, “Mmm, need to start with calling me by my real name for a start.”

“What, no Jakey or Jakers?”

His eyes light up in the soft glow of the hotel room’s incandescents as he dips his head back to laugh, “I swear to god, it’ll be a miracle if we pull this off.”

“Have a little faith in my acting abilities, baby,” you bat your lashes heavily, your voice turning soft and overly sweet. It probably didn’t help that you were functioning on almost nothing but coffee and pizza at this point.

He immediately pushes up from the chair, “I’m heading to bed before you make me hurl my food into the damn sink.”

“Don’t say that, sweetie-kins!” you coo, flopping over on the bed as you watch him collect the pizza box and methodically crush it in half to fit into the small black garbage can.

“Maybe I’ll call Guy up and see if he’s still available,” he muses with an irritated tone of voice, just to spur you on further as he nabs his toiletry bag and heads into the bathroom - leaving the door ajar.

“Now that is a show I would pay money to see,” you finally relent the act, pushing back the white comforter on your bed.

It only takes him a few minutes before he emerges. Jake smirks as he makes his way back to the bed, wearing nothing but his white t-shirt and briefs.

It must speak something to his level of exhaustion that he doesn’t even bother to make a you like what you see sort of comment. Not that you’d never seen him, or any other member of your squadron for that matter, in that level of undress before during pre-flight suit-up. But being at near eye-level in a hotel room was definitely a change in pace, though you also choose not to comment on it.

He merely rolls his comforter all the way to the end of the bed before he gets under the sheets, “You’re not an obnoxious snorer, are you, honey?”

You heft yourself up and cross the room in search of your own toiletry bag, “Guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

His tone is edged with a false sense of frustration as he grunts a low, drawn-out, “Lucky me.”

When you return to the room, the TV is off and he’s lying flat on his back.

The luminous blue light of his phone casts his face in sharp brightness as he quietly scrolls through something. You let him have his silence as you deposit your shower bag on your side of the dresser and carefully place your folded bra back into your backpack.

Only once you’re under the covers of your bed, with just the single bedside light on, does Jake relinquish his phone - placing it on the charger. He meets your gaze from across the way and, for a moment, it seems like there’s something he wants to say as he worries at his bottom lip.

But he ultimately just gives you a gruff: Night, Pita. Immediately followed by a curt nod before he turns off his light and rolls over to face toward the door.

With a shake of your head, and an accompanying: Goodnight, Hangman, you roll towards the window and try to settle in to sleep.

The sound of rustling sheets and agitated breaths fills the room for some time before the whirl of air conditioning kicks on. And then it’s only a matter of time before the darkness and the white noise soothes you into the lull of proper sleep.

Story Masterlist || Next Chapter

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun fan fic #series: home for the holidays #my fic

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pluralzalpha · 13 days

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Galactic Gazetteer: Excalbia

Class: E

Quadrant: Beta

Distance from Earth: several hundred light years

Inhabitants: Excalbians

Surface: largely molten

Atmosphere: toxic to humanoids

Appearance: TOS "The Savage Curtain" (1969)

Fun fact: thought to be lifeless outside of space legends, until the rock-like Excalbians made contact with the USS Enterprise.

Another fun fact: the Excalbians have no concept of good and evil, and thought that the best way to learn about was to take the form of historic figures like Abraham Lincoln and run war games. Don't ask me, season 3 of TOS was weird.

#galactic gazetteer #star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #beta quadrant

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usafphantom2 · 2 months

Text

USS Abraham Lincoln (CVN-72)

@Doha104p3 via X

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captain-price-unofficially · 6 months

Text

Some of the defensive armament of USS Abraham Lincoln (CVN 72). Seen in the photo are a Phalanx, a Sea Sparrow launcher, and a MK 38 25mm gun mount. She also has Rolling Airframe Missile launchers. Oct. 25, 2023

#naval #october #modern

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coldwarairforce · 1 year

Photo

A Fighter Squadron 84 (VF-84) F-14A Tomcat aircraft takes to the air after being launched from a catapult aboard the nuclear-powered aircraft carrier USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN (CVN-72) during the ship's shakedown cruise. 1990

#F-14A #F-14 #Tomcat #USS Abraham Lincoln #CVN-72

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stargazing15 · 2 years

Text

It was for the better

AKA It’s for the better part II

Pairing: Hangman x Fem Medic!Reader

Summary: Miracles do happen, having the most frequent blood type did help with that.

Warnings: angst, cursing, amnesia, it will get fluffy! This time the ending is happier. MINORS DNI

A/N: Keep in mind that English is not my first language. It’s finally here! Woohoo! Oh and sorry at the end I couldn’t stop writing. I hope you guys will like it

Part I

Please don’t copy my work

***

“Beep beep beep beep” you started to vaguely hear things, it sounded like were wearing a headset.

After what seemed half a day, in reality just one hour, everything started to get clearer; the noises, you even felt a sheet on top of your body. Just like when waking up, you started to stretch your legs and arms, what got interrupted, “Brrrrrrrrrr”, the awful sound of a blood pressure monitor followed with the pressure on your right arm. This got you to open your eyes as panic started to sink in. The surroundings did not seem familiar to you and a painful sting went through your abdomen. You tried to scream, but the panic and pain seemed to prevent you. The panic took control over you, as you started to hyperventilate and tear off the blood pressure cuff and nasal cannula without thinking.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N, shh.” a soft voice tried to calm you down. “Take it easy, try to control your breathing, in and out … in and out … in and out.” The rhythm of her sweet voice helped to calm down.

You opened your mouth to say something, but it felt so dry and painful, it was like the desert moved to your throat.

“You don’t need to talk yet, it might be a difficult in the beginning and your voice will be quite hoarse the first few days. I’ll go get the doctor, I’m nurse Mann by the way.” the nurse smiled. ‘What’s going on here?’ you thought.

After your doctor arrived and completely examined you, you found out that you were not in a San Diego hospital and did not just get back from deployment on the USS Abraham Lincoln. As a matter of fact you were in a military hospital in Germany after getting shot pretty badly and nearly not surviving during a tour in the Middle East as a field medic. So next diagnosis: amnesia.

In the following week you got your voice back, started revalidation and getting back in contact with your friend Jess. Eventually you all agreed it might be a good idea to meet some of your coworkers from your unfamiliar deployment again.

Your hands were trembling when you were waiting in front of the laptop on the video call, meeting them will be good to get to know about your new self and to get to know them once again. Oh help, it’s ringing, come on Y/N, pull yourself together.

“Hey.” you started the conversation awkwardly.

“Oh my god Y/N! I never thought to see you alive again!” the girl cried.

“I, uhm, I’m sorry” you said nervously.

“Britt, I think we should re-introduce us first, you dimwit.” “Oh yeah, forgot you forgot.” she joked. And you kept on talking, as you learned they were Britt and Jeff, also medics. They were a handful and you started to understand why they were your friends, talking to them gave an odd familiar feeling of comfort. You found out you were not just the small and sweet medic anymore as your team in San Diego knew you, apparently you became a badass, actually what you always hoped to be, but still a sweet one.

“So Y/N what will the future bring for you?” Jess continued.

“I don’t know yet, probably back to San Diego, back home.” Britt looked at you with a weird expression you couldn’t place. You saw Britt and Jeff looking at each other before sighing “Y/N, there is something about, uhm, your last words, before I thought we had lost you. You said a name, I don’t know if it means any thing to you, but you said the name Jake.”

“Jake?” you questioned her.

“Yeah, do you know anyone by that name?”

Maybe it was a good thing they didn’t tell you the complete truth yet about why you left home, but they hadn’t puzzled everything together.

“No, not anyone that immediately that comes up.” Okay, you know that Hangman’s first name was Jake, but it couldn’t be him, you never spoke to him outside of work, his medical check ups after flights or when he stained an ankle or something. Then there was a Jake in logistics, but that man was almost 60, so it couldn’t be him either. Maybe when you get back home, you’ll find out who the Jake is.

***

A couple of days later, after getting cleared to fly, you arrived back at San Diego. Home sweet home…

“Y/N!”

“Oh my god, Jess!” before you got the chance to put backpack on the ground, she hugged you tightly, maybe a little bit too tight. “Too tight, my belly, hurts, still injured” you tried to muffle out.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I’ve missed you so much and when I heard, I - I…” she started to sob. “I thought I lost you.”

“Hey, it’s okay now.” you reassured her “I’m back, let’s get back home first.”

Arriving home felt good, you got a second chance at life, you still had to figure everything out, but it would all be okay, or at least you hoped so.

“So, what now?” Jess started.

“First getting better, working on my condition when I’ll be able to and hopefully finding my memory somewhere.” you grinned. “And after that I don’t know, I hope the Navy will take me back, I mean my whole life has been the Navy.”

“Are you insane, the Navy would be nothing without you. Have you ever thought about teaching battlefield medicine?”

“That’s maybe not a bad idea.” you smiled. The two of you had a lot of catch up to do about the latest gossip on base - of course except for the part what happened to you with Hangman, sparing you that detail would hopefully help you with your recovery.

As you started to browse through the stack of Navy Times, you saw an article about a rescue that got attacked from around the time you got injured. With the pictures of a destroyed Humvee and basecamp, a flashback happened. You felt your heartbeat and blood pressure rise, hands getting sweaty, your legs going weak and a sting going through your abdomen at the memory of being hit.

“Y/N, are you okay? You look pale, here, some water.” Good thing you were already sitting on your couch, as you took a sip of water that Jess offered.

“I - I think I start to remember things.” you stammer. “I remember the base with Jeff and Britt and getting hit. The rescue.”

“Take a breath, it’s good that things are coming back. Shh, come here.” Jess said as she wrapped her arms around you.

Letting the memories sink in you started to tell about them “I was actually pretty badass back there, I saved a couple lives, I even learned to shoot with bigger guns than we learned here.” You even started to smile, these flashbacks were not that bad, except the getting shot part of course. Getting over the first shock of remembering things again after weeks, you started to feel at ease with them.

“Okay, don’t turn too cocky, what happened to my sweet sidekick Y/N? What have you done to her?” Jess smiled. “But I have to say, from the stories I heard form Britt and Jeff, the new you was very awesome.”

“Do you actually know why I shipped out? I mean something must’ve happened here before I left, right? I know Britt and Jeff know something too, but I didn’t want to push it yet after getting to know them again.”

Jess scratched her neck, “I think it’s better if you don’t remember, just keep the better memories.” She tried to reassure you that it’s better this way.

“Let’s call it a night, you want me to stay? I’m free tomorrow, so no alarm in the morning.”

“Yeah good idea, can you stay, just in case, thanks Jess. You’re really a good friend.”

***

Days went by as you were settling back in, going to revalidation, meeting up with Jess after her work and contacting Jeff and Britt at the weirdest hours of the day, you learned it was their last week before going back home. While talking to them, you got a couple more memories back from your time in the Middle East, all good ones. You started to discover more of the new you and the more you learned about her, the more you started the become her (again); more fearless, more confident and still the best at her job without getting too cocky.

As walking went better and better, you decided it was time to visit the base and see your colleagues and talk to your boss about returning in the future.

“Are your sure you’re ready for this Y/N?” Jess asked as you were entering the main building.

“Yes, I’m ready!” you actually even sounded excited. But the excitement immediately got tempered when you saw people looking at you with surprise.

“Y/N, we can head back if you want to.”

“Nope, let them look, I honestly don’t give a shit.” you scoff.

“Okay, this new you, I like her.”

It was weird getting back, but it felt good. Next, as you went to your commander to discuss your return, everything started to fall into place, just getting declared fit for duty and you’ll be back at normal. You couldn’t be in a happier mood to go back home.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N? Y/N? You’re - you’re here.”

“Lieutenant Seres-” Before you even got the chance to finish your sentence, a major flashback hit you, basically THE flashback - everything - pinning you to ground. A wave of emotions crash landed on you; hurt, embarrassment, guilt, some kind of relieve, the mix got you to the point of hyperventilating.

“Shit, Y/N, calm down, breathe, sit down” as he guided you gently to the ground. Even though you hated his guts for everything he did to you, his voice was able to calm you down, as you got thrown back in time to the moment your body was giving up and you could only imagine his face. Following with a quiet “Jake”.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He tried to brake the ice, not knowing what you meant with it. “Y/N, when you left, I - I - I felt so guilty and when I heard you got shot and nearly didn’t survive, I’m so so sorry. I’ve been an asshole to you. I don’t know what I -” Maybe you should’ve listened to him before you left, but if you did you wouldn’t be who you are now. You’ve got to admit, listening to his apology has helped calming down.

“Well Bagman, thank you for your apology, what a miracle, coming from you. Keep in mind you’re not even close from forgiven. You’ve got no idea what you’ve put me through. Everyone staring at me like I was a piece of garbage, making me feel worthless. You’re a piece of shit, you were not worth a tear I cried every single night. You even made me agree with dying YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!” the last comment made him starting to cry, not realising how bad the consequences of his actions could be. Yup, Hangman is crying like a baby and you are the reason. It actually felt good, he had it coming. This time it was opposite around, people were staring at a crying Hangman and not the pathetic medic, as you would’ve described yourself in the past.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” You scoffed at him, this time you walked away head held high.

Arriving at home you felt a pang in your heart, maybe you were a little too rude. Hangman deserved it, but you couldn’t hate the man, just the humiliation he me you go through.

‘Oh girls, they wanna have fun. Oh girls just wanna hav-’ “Hi Jess!” That ringtone really fitted her.

“Did you really make Hangman cry?”

“Well hello to you to and yes.”

“You go girl, I’m so proud of you!”

“He deserved it, but why do I feel a bit bad about it?”

“You still like him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know, he genuinely looked upset with what happened to me.”

“Maybe you should talk with him. He came by the medic post without having an appointment or injury a couple of times to hear us out about you. Probably to clear his conscience, so he could sleep at night. I politely told him to fuck off.” Jess said proudly.

“Oh and did you that Bob is back, he got transferred here for some kind of mission - “

“Oh, it was him I heard in the background sometimes when we called.”

“Uh yeah, but I think he’s staying this time, the Navy is apparently keeping this special team together.”

“I’m happy for you Jess.”

“Thanks, hey, I’m meeting his team finally tonight, you wanna join? Maybe it will get your mind off things.”

“Yeah, why not.”

***

“Hi everyone, this is my Jess and her coworker Y/N, who is basically a superhero, she got injured on her deployment.” Bob introduced you to the dagger-squad, they were really nice people.

“We’re missing one, he’s going to be later, let’s enjoy the free space now. His ego will take all the empty space haha” the girl, which you learned was Phoenix, said.

“Well there he is!” you heard Coyote scream from the pool table.

As you turned around to the entrance, you froze as you recognised the person.

“Bagman”

“Oh you know his name, didn’t know you two were acquaintances.” Phoenix said.

“I invented the name.” you grinned, still locking eyes with Hangman.

“Well I like you girl.”

“Y/N, can we talk please?” Hangman asked quietly, hoping no one would notice. You weren’t done yet with him, one last humiliation would maybe satisfy you.

“Beg on your knees Bagman.”

“What-” you shot him a look. He understood you were not joking and not letting it go, so he got on his knees, resulting in getting stares from everybody at the bar.

“Can we talk please?”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Let’s go outside.”

As you two started to head out, you heard the “What is going on between those two?” and “I think Hangman found his match, finally someone who has control over him” going around in the group at what Jess started to tell the story.

Arriving at a comfortable spot at the beach after an awkward walk, you started to look at Hangman’s silhouette. Before you got snapped out of your thoughts, you couldn’t help to notice that the man was still as handsome as ever.

“Y/N” He started softly. “I know I can’t take back what happened and I’m so so sorry. Fuck, I hurt you and I shouldn’t have, but I don’t even know where to start.” You wanted to interrupt him, but he sounded so sincere. “I want you to know I don’t regret you, just the bet. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was scared to say no to the squadron. I know I can be an asshole, but those guys are the absolute worst. Always those stupid bets, daring each other to sleep with women and mistreating them. In the beginning I was okay with the lifestyle, they gave me the feeling that I belonged here and that that was how we aviators should be.” Hangman started to fumble his hand in the sand with a sad expression on his face. “It all started to change when I had to get checked by you pulling those 8G turns, you were so cute.” he now chuckled a bit at the memory. “I made the realisation that I was not 20 anymore and that maybe I needed a bit of stability in my life. I started to sent girls home before anything happened, just to keep on pleasing the guys. And when they made the bet on you, I wanted to back off and do the same thing, but I got carried away and started to forget about the bet, until they texted me in the morning wanting proof. I never knew they would take it that far, I hoped they would’ve deleted the picture immediately, they did eventually, but after the damage was done. I honestly have no idea how to make it up to you.” your brain started to malfunction because on one hand you wanted to punch his pretty face and on the other hand you just wanted to kiss him because of the small confession he made and the effect his piercing green eyes in the dim light had on you. Jesus, it’s impossible to stay mad at this man.

“I’m not with that squadron anymore” “Good” you cut him off. “Well, that’s a start to make it up, proof to me that you’ve changed. It will take a while for me to believe, but I’ll give you the chance.” you said as you started to loosen up, maybe you need this too to leave the past behind.

“Thanks Y/N, I won’t let you down, can I ask you something?”

“Depends”

“Can I see your wound, I need to see what I caused.”

“No”

“-Oh, okay, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that, there is still a bandage on it and I’m wearing a dress you dimwit” you playfully slapped the back of his head.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be a pervert.” he said a little embarrassed, but with a smile.

“Hey, did you know you’re talking to a zombie?” You joked to lighten the atmosphere.

“What?” he looked puzzled at your comment.

“My heart stopped for a second on the table and I’m also a vampire, I took so much blood from other people.” you two kept on talking for a while getting to know each other better and joking around.

***

In the next few weeks Hangman took you out on a couple of dates, as he insisted to call it dates, and helped you with your revalidation; yes the man had changed, in a softy. What even sweet Bob noticed “Y/N, what have you done to our Hangman, he didn’t even ditch us in the air, he’s becoming a team player.”

“Well, Bob, he asked me how he could make it up to me. So why not make all of yours lives even better.” you smiled at your accomplishment.

“Do know he has always liked you?”

“He kind of mentioned it, but as friends I guess.”

“We didn’t know it was you, but he kept on mentioning a girl he let slip away and even almost losing forever.” you were already on the edge of falling for him again, but that just send you over it.

“I - I didn’t know that. I don’t want to be rude, but I actually have to go, my Uber is here, he promised me to take me to the beach.”

When you arrived at the beach, you had to take a second look at Hangman, nice shorts, of course shirt unbuttoned so everybody could see his glorious chest and abs and his Ray Ban sunglasses. That man should be illegal.

After taking in his looks, you looked at the picnic basket in his hands, oh a romantic date. You were finally rid of your bandages, but not yet ready to show your skin on the beach, so you opted a comfortable loose skirt and a simple top.

“Hi Jake!” you waved at him.

“Hey Y/N.” he said while hugging you. The date started of like all the others talking to each other how your day went, joking around, stealing glances at each other, just enjoying the company. Everything had changed dramatically since you came back, it was one hell of a roller coaster, but it started to feel like it was all worth it.

“Jake, what started to change you, I mean the way you were before we met?” you asked him curiously.

“You, I might have faked a small injury here and there to see you and I just started to wonder what settling down might look like. I hadn’t figured out yet with who it might be, until, yeah, you know.”

“So no strained ankles?” you looked at him with a playful grin.

“Nope.”

“You got soft before you even knew it.” you scooted a little closer so your shoulder touch his at what he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“I like it like this, us. I’m sorry it took you nearly dying to realise what you mean to me. You were always running around on base or on the ship like a cute little goofball taking care of everyone, that the sight of you became a constant in my life. And I know I never had you, but loosing you made me realise I needed you.” at this point you two were lying on the blanket he brought looking at each other while Hangman was talking. “I once again don’t mean to be a pervert, but I still have the picture of you I took. It helped me get through some missions.”

“And some other ‘missions’ I guess. But it’s ok.” you smacked his upper shoulder playfully, which resulted in Hangman losing his balance and landing with his face right next to yours. You both expected one of you to jerk away, but instead you just looked straight in those green eyes, they started to soften and get filled with love. Seconds had passed getting lost in each others eyes as Hangman broke the silence “Can I?” as he put his hand on your cheek, you nodded. Hangman started to kiss you, you felt butterflies and fireworks everywhere, just like when he kissed you the first time. This time it wasn’t needy, it was filled with love, long lost love. As you pulled away, out of breath, you both mumbled a quiet ‘wow’.

“I think I might really like you Jake.”

“Yeah me too” he replied back still dazed.

“Your ego still pretty big isn’t it?” you chuckled.

“Oh my god, I mean I like you too and I really like that you call me Jake” he said a bit embarrassed. You couldn’t help to start laughing a bit at his embarrassment. “I know what you meant Jake.” you said while snuggling yourself in his embrace.

It was for the better.

186 notes · View notes

shadeops21 · 2 years

Text

So I’ve done some digging into the different characters introduced in TG: Maverick, specifically with their home squadrons.

I’ve done the best I can to look at production stills and freeze-frames from trailers and behind the scenes material, and this is what I’ve been able to identify.

Pre-note: this is done more to educate and assist cosplayers in obtaining the right patches than to criticise the movie and costume department. I’m also noting down real-world assignments and the aircraft they use.

Lt Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw - VFA-87 “Golden Warriors”

F/A-18E Super Hornet

Air Wing 8 aboard the USS Gerald R Ford.

Squadron callsign “War Party”

Lt Natasha “Phoenix” Trace - VFA-41 “Black Aces”

F/A-18F Super Hornet

Air Wing 9 aboard USS Abraham Lincoln.

Callsign “Fast Eagle”

Lt Robert “Bob” Floyd - VFA-51 Screaming Eagles [NOTE: FICTITIOUS SQUADRON]

F/A-18E Super Hornet

As noted, VFA-51 does not actually exist in the current active squadron register, and it is likely that the patch worn by Bob was a costume edit or an oversight by costumers. VF-51 was disestablished in 1995.

Lt Reuben “Payback” Fitch - VFA-125 “Rough Raiders”

F-35C Lightning II

Fleet replacement squadron (final flight training for pilots prior to them being assigned a fleet squadron).

Callsign “Raider”

Lt Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia” - VFA-143 “Pukin’ Dogs”

F/A-18E Super Hornet

Air Wing 7 aboard USS George HW Bush

Callsign “Taproom”

Unable to fully identify:

Lt Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Lt Javy “Coyote” Machado

Will need to obtain better stills of their flight suits unencumbered to see their squadron patches before I can identify their unit.

#top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #cosplay #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #reuben payback fitch #mickey fanboy garcia

377 notes · View notes

judgemark45 · 4 months

Text

USS Abraham Lincoln (CVN-72) in dry dock, 1990

159 notes · View notes

desert-fern · 7 months

Text

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 22: Reunion

* image by Ilaria Ubinati, found on Pinterest*

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: Bear gets a little existential, her team is amazing and supportive, really not much else imo

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist >> Part 21 >> Part 23

===

It had been nearly 5 months since Bear had left the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln in order to meet with Admirals Will “Shark” Harris, Beau “Cyclone” Simpson, and Navy psychologist, Dr. Hazelwood. They had required her to take a mandatory leave effective immediately, weekly sessions with Dr. Hazelwood, and had barred her from engaging in discussions relating to the day to day operations of the US Navy and its members, as well as forbidding any contact with those directly involved in the investigation of what would be former Lieutenant Commander Colton “Hazard” Richards.

Needless to say, the third condition struck a nerve in the Commander. Her team was her family, as she had said numerous times, and in her mind, it was needlessly cruel. The rest of her orders she could understand. Hazard had been taken off the ship directly by NCIS agents along with the rest of his so-called team, and she knew that Bug, FAK, Daisy, Shrike, Jake and a few others would be crucial in building the case against these five. But that also meant she couldn’t talk to them until after they had finished up their parts for the agents and the prosecution.

She couldn’t talk to her family. Nor they to her, and it tore her heart to shreds.

But Bear just nodded, gritting her teeth in frustration. “Sirs, may I suggest a change to the conditions?”

Admiral Simpson looked surprised at her boldness, but her boss, Admiral Harris had expected this and motioned for her to continue regardless of the look on his colleague’s face. “You may, Commander.”

“I would like to request a psychologist not connected to the US Navy.” Bear’s tone was even, controlled. She knew what she needed and unfortunately this psychologist wouldn’t be it. “I mean no disrespect to you, ma’am. I have no doubt of your qualifications, but in order for me to be at the level I need to be, I require counseling from someone that isn’t going to sign off on me the second I show even a fraction of improvement.” This was a genuine concern. Bear knew that if they could slap an ‘all better’ on her file right now, then they would. However, for her sake, for the sake of her team, Bear had to be at her best and right now, she was far from it.

Harris raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “And who exactly is going to fill in for Dr. Hazelwood?” He had been caught off guard by Bear yet again. Both he and Cyclone had figured that Bear would want to be put back into the field as soon as possible. Neither one of them had considered this request as something that she would ever bring up.

“I’m sure that there are private psychologists who have been vetted by the Navy should this ever arise.” She met Cyclone’s gaze and held it, refusing to even entertain the idea of a compromise. Bear knew that she was damaged, that her experiences had broken something inside of her that couldn’t be fixed with three sessions and a bandaid. She needed help, and deep down, Bear knew that she would walk away from this life if she couldn’t get the help she needed. “This is one of those circumstances.”

Cyclone glanced at Shark before nodding. “We’ll see that that is done, Commander. And may I commend you for your professionalism at this time. It is a rare thing.”

Bear nodded in thanks, her jaw feeling like it had been wired shut. She shifted on her feet, ignoring the itchiness of a scab on her side while the Admirals talked at her, discussing item after item, barely taking more than a few seconds to ensure that the information was being absorbed. She had been in that office for far too long and her mind was nearly at its breaking point.

Now though, Bear sat on her couch, wrapped up in a blanket as she stared at the wall. Today’s session had left her emotionally drained and she wanted nothing more than to be with someone, to be near someone. She had gone home to Vermont almost immediately after her leave had been approved and spent two of the five months with her moms, both loving and hating the familiarity of it all.

She recognized the feeling as the same one that had hit her after her first deployment. Bear had gone home and the world had seemed different. The lush forests that she used to train in, the well-worn trails feeling foreign, the overall peaceful serenity unnerving. It was almost like she had stepped back into a life that wasn’t hers, a period of her history that had faded and been lost to time. She distantly remembered sobbing in her mother’s arms, the reason long forgotten to time, memory, and pain.

Since that time however, Bear had grown stronger and bolder, grown into who she was now. Rather, who she had been before Hazard and his goons tried to ascertain a command of their own. She knew that eventually the pain would heal, and thanks to Dr. Carter, her new psychologist vetted personally by Admiral Harris, Bear was well on her way to managing the nightmares, trauma, and the sting of betrayal brought in spades by Operation Hellfire.

So Bear sat, the silence filling her, bringing her a semblance of peace. She had recovered slowly; spending hours focusing on her breathing, going to the gym on nights that sleep eluded her, writing down what she could about her day, and just did her best to heal. She couldn’t recall the last time she had had so much time to do what she wanted and it was both scary and freeing.

The prosecution had finished with her main team three months after her leave had begun and Bear had cried after getting the email from Harris that she could chat with a few of her team, namely Fireball and Bug. The lawyers had wanted to spend longer talking to those who had been directly impacted by Hazard’s actions and those who had been crucial in putting together the evidence for them.

She had given her own initial testimony days after being put on leave, much to the anger of Admiral Harris who had demanded that his Commander be allowed time to recover from her ordeal. It had been difficult. She had barely been able to piece together sentences of her experience, the words getting lost in the fear and pain she had been through, but she had persevered. She pushed through it, tearing open the mental wounds she had spent weeks trying to heal and in her pain, her tears, Bear had found it within her to admonish the prosecutor who demanded answers. He had been stunned into silence from the force of her words as she stood shaking in front of him.

He had backed off. Given her time. He had requested time to speak with her again a month ago and she had felt ready, so Bear had finally worked through the apprehension and spoke with him, detailing what she could remember. He thanked her, offering his apologies for his brusque nature the first time they had met, and told Bear that he would call if he had any more questions.

And despite all obstacles against her, Bear was healing. Today’s session hadn’t made her burst into tears. It wasn’t much, but it was progress. Progress that she was immensely proud of. Bear had also heard from Dr. Carter that her mandatory leave was up soon, and that Cyclone and Shark wanted to meet with her in a few days.

She was ready. Bear was ready to see her team again, her family. Maybe if she impressed her bosses, they would let her train with her team. The mere thought had her smiling widely as she picked herself up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen to make dinner. It was nothing fancy, but Bear still found herself dancing as she cooked, the joy seeming to radiate off of her. “If only Jake were here,” she thought. “Then it would be perfect.”

===

The day of her meeting came quickly, and Bear had never been more excited to put her uniform on than today. It beat out the first time she had put it on by a mile and she didn’t quite know what to make of that. Each button fastened brought her closer to her goal: Harris and Simpson had to be convinced that she was better, that she wasn’t a risk.

Bear grabbed her backpack, keys, phone, and wallet and slipped out the front door of her house. The same house that had once stood out for being starkly unlived in, now seemed to blend in a little more. The flower beds were now full and blooming in colors they never had before, the lawn was clipped, and it looked like a home. With all the time on her hands, the work made her feel normal. It had been a source of peace for her while she recovered and it continuously made her grin as she drove the roads to the base.

The guard at the entrance to the base had shouted “Welcome home!” when she had rolled her window down and his enthusiasm made her laugh as she handed him her new ID.

“It’s good to be back.” Bear took back her card, waving to him as she drove into the base, parking as close as she could to the Admiral’s office and slowly made her way inside, passing colleagues and friends who each greeted her with smiles, handshakes and hugs.

“Commander. It’s good to see you.”

“Sirs.” Bear couldn’t help but grin a little as she saluted the two men before her. “It’s good to be back.”

“At ease, Commander.” Cyclone gestured for her to take a seat in front of him, eyes watching Bear as she did. “We received word from Dr. Carter that she feels you are ready to come back.”

“Yes Sir. I was informed of the same.” Bear shuffled in her chair, trying to get comfortable. The cold sterility of the meeting room they sat in never failed to make her uncomfortable and today was no different, especially when she was waiting desperately to see those whom she hadn’t seen in over five long months.

Admiral Harris glanced over at Bear. “And do you feel the same?” He could sense her eagerness to return to the job, his Commander was hardly subtle in that regard. Her love for her job and her people was something he hoped her successor would possess and from what he had seen from Bug, he knew that Team 3 was in phenomenal hands.

“I do. I don’t think I’m ready to be deployed immediately, but I feel ready to rejoin my team, to start training again.” Bear knew what she wanted from this meeting, and she could tell that the men across from her knew it too, but this was still a formality that they all had to go through.

“I see.”

And the conversation continued from there. By the end, the two Admirals had decided that while Bear still needed to pass a psychological exam by a Navy psychologist, she was essentially cleared to train again with her team.

It was like she was flying at their words. Bear knew that what they were saying was important, but she was too caught up in the excitement of being able to see and talk to her family again. It would be awhile before any legal action came down on the people who had hurt her with their plotting, but they hadn’t won. She was sitting here, in front of her bosses, paying just enough attention to their words so she wouldn’t miss anything important, while her heart was doing backflips at the thought of just seeing her people.

“Congratulations Commander. You will be reinstated shortly.” The amused voice of Admiral Harris cut through her thoughts. “Go and rendezvous with your team, Bear. They have been clamoring at the gates trying to see you. I believe Petty Officer Hamilton sounded the alarm that you were back.”

Bear smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, Sir. He was all smiles when I arrived earlier.”

“He is the type to do so, Commander.” Cyclone was watching her carefully, amused by the humor in her voice. It was clear to him that Bear was ready to burst out of the room, so he dismissed her, nodding at her salute and watched Bear slip out the door. “Is she always like this, Harris?”

“Eager to get back to work? Yes. The type to tune us out? No, that’s likely from her not being able to help her team for the last five months.”

===

Bear raced out of the building, descending the stairs so fast she nearly fell down them. She closed the distance quickly, slowing to a walk as she quietly approached the empty training warehouse. Her heart was pounding, both from the exertion and because after five long months, she was oh so close to finally being near the people that had always had her back.

Her team was okay, definitely worried about her, but from the updates Fireball had been giving her over the last few weeks, Bear knew that they were alright. Bug was doing her best to keep their spirits up, and Bear couldn’t be more proud of Priya. She knew that her second would step up when needed and Priya did exactly that.

They had come together in her absence. Growing stronger as a team, they were all so excited that their boss, their friend, and to some, a maternal figure (not that they would ever say that to her face), was coming back to them.

And she was right outside the doors, listening intently to the cacophony of voices yelling over one another. Bear heard Bug shout over the noise, silencing most of the group, except for a few who kept chattering away excitedly. “Now! To the two newbies that joined us a few months ago, you only know me as your CO. You haven’t met Bear yet.” Bug stopped halfway through her sentence to swing her gaze over and stare down the new Seals. “And if you two would stop your yammering, maybe we can finish this up so you can meet her.”

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They both looked thoroughly chastised and Bug smiled. Her job had gotten a little easier as time had gone on. She still wished that Bear were here to help guide her, but Priya knew that this was the same way her commander had learned the job. Training wheels didn’t exist in the Navy and Bug was proud of just how much she had been able to do despite her hesitation.

“Good. Now,” she continued. Her smile had only grown wider as she felt the excitement of her colleagues grow with every passing moment. Everyone wanted to see Bear again, and thanks to Petty Officer Hamilton, the whole base knew that the Commander was back. “Bear is still in her meeting with the Air Boss and Admiral Harris, so did we have any questions about our training this week?”

A few hands were raised and Bug answered the questions as best she could. She was distracted and it had felt like time was crawling as she breezed through the last few questions, clarifying a few points and restating another four, much to her dismay. Bug had just asked if there were any remaining questions when a familiar voice echoed through the quiet room. “I have a question. What does a woman have to do to get a hug around here?”

“Bear!” The room erupted in chaos, Seals scrambling out of their seats to hug their Commander, pushing and shoving others out of the way to be the first to greet her. A cacophony of voices made Bug cringe at the volume and she caught the gazes of the other Lieutenants who had held back, letting their platoons hug their boss.

“Alright. Alright!” Bear yelled over the noise, her hands out in front of her. “I’m not running out on you guys. I will get to everyone, I promise.” The room immediately settled down, people shuffling out of Bear’s path as she walked up to the front of the room.

Bear had begun tearing up when the room exploded into shouts of joy. Her team was okay and the sheer weight of the emotions she had felt all week dissipated in a heartbeat. Each hug, handshake, and story shared seemed to lighten her heart in such a way that it felt like it was seconds from floating up, up, up into the sky to fly alongside the F-18s on base.

Each step towards Bug felt like miles. Bear had heard the endless praise of Priya since the moment she'd arrived back on base and it was comforting to know that she had chosen well. “Priya.”

“Bear.” And Bug was in her arms, holding her tight. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Bug.” She held the other woman for a moment longer, before letting go to wipe her tears. “You’ve done an incredible job with them. I couldn’t be more proud.”

A tearful thank you left Bug as she swiped at her tears, letting Bear turn to envelop F.A.K. into a tight squeeze. The medic mumbled something to their Commander, making her laugh despite her tears.

The rest of that morning and early afternoon was spent catching up, Bear found herself holding court as she answered question after question from her team, refusing to leave anything out. Her team weren’t children, they had all suffered from her disappearance and Bear felt that they deserved to know at least a fraction of what had plagued her over the long five months apart.

“… I did go home to Vermont,” Bear said, laughing when someone yelled out that a person couldn’t be from Vermont. “I’m serious. My moms live there, in a small town in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.”

A few more adamant shouts had the room dissolving into giggles and for what felt like the millionth time that day, Bear felt a lightness that she hadn’t felt in a while. Not since the early days in Riyadh with Jake.

Jake. Where was he? Come to think of it, where were the Daggers? Bear hadn’t heard a word from any of them except Rooster one time when he stopped by to lend her a book. She had yet to give it back to him, and she would be lying if she said that was the only reason she wanted to see the pilots who had become a third family to her.

Sensing Bear’s distraction, Bug jumped in to dissuade the next few questions, sending the Seals off to lunch, while keeping a close eye on the suddenly pensive Bear. “Are you okay?”

Bear nodded. “I’m fine. Honestly. Just missing people.” She was trying for nonchalance, but from the look Priya gave her, it was clear that she had failed miserably.

“The Daggers have been away since Monday for a four day intensive at Lemoore,” Bug began, a knowing smile growing wider as the seconds passed. “I hear that they should be back sometime today or tomorrow.”

Bear hummed her acknowledgment and continued staring out through the open doors at the planes taking off in the distance. “It’s strange being back,” she said after a while.

“Good strange or bad strange?”

“Is it bad if I don’t know yet?”

Bug shook her head. “I don’t think so. I would probably feel the same in your shoes.”

“And I hope that you never have to be.” Bear’s tone was dark. A firm edge that forbade Bug from ever following her path to the woman she had become. “As long as I am in charge, you will never have to make the same choices I did in that desert.”

“You can’t promise that.” Bug’s tone was soft, almost like she was trying to talk Bear down.

Bear turned, meeting Priya’s gaze. “What I had to do…” she trailed off, shaking her head at the thought. “I will do whatever I can to make sure that none of you ever face the demons I did. I can promise that much.”

“Bear, what happened wasn’t your fault. None of us have ever blamed you.” There was now urgency in Bug’s voice, pleading with Bear to believe her. “Not a single one.”

“I know you don’t. Only one person deserves the blame.” The words felt foreign in her mouth, like they didn’t belong to her. And for the longest time, they hadn’t. Dr. Carter had spent months ensuring that Bear knew that she had nothing to be blamed for. These words belonged to Dr. Carter, not Bear. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I knew I could survive what I was dealt. That I did what I did so that none of you endured what I did.”

Bug was silent. Bear wouldn’t be swayed from this belief that her sacrifice was a good thing. To Bug, however, it wasn’t. The choice had been made, but Bug was still worried that Bear would make the same decision if the opportunity presented itself. So she hummed, gathering her thoughts. “We did get new equipment earlier this week, wanna see?”

Bear seemed to snap out of her melancholy, standing up. “New equipment? Hell yeah.”

“Come on then. We get to test it out for the first time later today.”

===

Hours later, Bear arrived home. Her body hurt, unused to the rigors of training after being away for so long. It had been a sobering realization, but she had known that she wouldn’t be at 100% from the start. She had to take it slow. Well, slower than previously thought.

But holy shit had it felt good to line up her shots, to watch bullets punch through paper targets, to help T-Pot and Zero find the sweet spot to take their shots. She felt useful again.

So now, sitting on her couch in her pajamas with a bowl of mac and cheese on her lap as she scrolled mindlessly through her phone, Bear was content. Today had been good, save for her one moment with Bug. But when she wrote about her day in the journal she had been given, for once it didn’t feel like she was condemning her actions.

Today was progress.

She was startled from her couch potato state by a knock at the door. Glancing at the time in the corner of her phone, Bear frowned. Who the hell could that be? It was late and while she had the weekend off, it didn’t make sense to have visitors.

Groaning, Bear unwrapped herself from her blanket and stood, her knees and ankles popping as she moved. She made her way over, her socked feet sliding over the wooden floor of her home, and opened the door to see Jake standing on her porch.

It was like all of the air had been punched out of her body as she gazed upon him. Even in the darkness outside, his figure illuminated by the single porch light, setting fire to gold in his blonde hair, resembling a crown, he was beautiful. He always had been beautiful, but now, after five long months, here he was in front of her and Bear was left speechless.

Back where they had first begun. When her feelings had become feelings. Jake on her porch, and Bear standing before him, one hand on the open door. Only this time, there was no pizza.

They stared at one another for a moment, before Bear managed a strangled “Jake.”

“Teddy.”

===

A/N: This cut-off is only because this would have been longer than the last one if I had kept this and the next part together. I’m done hurting people. I promise. @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @dakotakazansky, you guys are incredible.

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