Chapter Text
When Ice and the rest of the guys returned from deployment, he wasn't expecting for them to get invited alongside Mav to Carole's house. In fact, a small part of Ice was certain the widow would want nothing to do with them after what happened to Goose. Regardless, they've been invited, and Mav clearly wants them to come because he hasn't stopped chattering about it (and his nephew) for more than two seconds since the letter came on the latest mail day.
They learned, quite readily, that Mav adores Bradley Bradshaw.
As a group, they all knock on the door, and Carole receives them with a big smile and an armful of gosling. Bradley lights up immediately, making grabby hands at his uncle.
"Hey, Brad-Brad! I missed you so much, baby goose!" Mav chirps, taking his nephew from Carole and pressing teasing kisses all over the boy's cheeks.
"Unca Mav!" Bradley shrieks, giggling and trying to push his uncle's face away.
Mav chuckles, ceasing his attack and giving the child a hearty squeeze. Bradley responds in kind and wraps his arms around Mav's neck, pressing his face into Mav's shoulder. They stay like so for a long time, and the tension in the aviator's body slowly diminishes.
"It's so good to have you boys home," Carole says, opening the door wider. "Come on. Come in. I've got lunch ready since I figure you had a long flight."
Ice shuffles. "You didn't need to do that, ma'am."
Carole eyes him. "Don't you start with that ma'am nonsense, Tom. All of you can call me Carole."
The boys share a glance, a smirk, and a braincell as they all reply, "Yes, ma'am."
With no small amount of exasperated scowling, Carole ushers them inside and to the dinner table. They share a meal like a family—a convoluted and mismatched family, but a family all the same. It's... nice.
But after lunch, when everyone has retired for a nap or to the backyard for a relaxing sprawl in a lawn chair, Carole pulls Ice aside. "I have something for you boys. You're going to need it."
Ice glances down when she pushes a cardboard box into his hands with incredibly familiar leatherbound journals inside. "Carole, I-" He shakes his head, speechless. "I can't take these. These are Goose's journals-"
"No. This box," Carole explains, patting another box of equal size on the couch, "-is Goose's personal journals. The one you're holding.... It's his journals on Mav."
"On Mav?"
"He knew Mav longer than he knew me, Tom, and almost every day for as long as they were together, he would write about their experiences together. You have no idea what Nick meant to Pete, no matter what he's told you, but I think you boys will be able to gain a better understanding if you learn just how much Pete meant to Nick."
Ice peers into the open box. There must be at least ten journals in this thing, all filled to the brim and exploding at the edges with extra inserts. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything, Tom, but if you're going to keep those journals, then I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
"Look out for Pete. He told me what you said, so stay on his wing, both up there and down here. Please."
Tom stares. He already told Mav he'll be his wingman, but he never dreamed that commitment would bring him directly into the Bradshaws' fold. Privately, Ice acknowledged that they knew so very little about the real person behind Maverick when they saw how destroyed he was over Goose's death. Maybe.... Maybe this way, they can close the gap.
"He needs people, Tom," Carole whispers, her eyes pinned to the screen door leading to the backyard.
Following her eyes, Tom sighs when he sees Pete on his knees on the porch while Bradley shows him his toys and the stories he made up while his uncle was gone. He doesn't know exactly how to be there for Pete just yet, but he swore to himself when the tiny aviator refused to leave him in the air that he'd make sure the kid stayed safe.
"I promise, Carole," Tom murmurs, firming his hold on the box.
"Thank you." Carole squeezes his arm. "I know it seems like a lot, but I promise it's worth it to read them."
"Have you?"
"Some. Goose was protective of them, even from me, for a long time. It was almost two years before he admitted he even had a separate journal for Pete." She picks the journal off the top. "Especially this one. It was the first."
Her tender regard for that particular volume twists Ice's heart. He can only imagine what's in it. Part of him burgeons with curiosity, but the other part of him recoils away from the massive breach of privacy. Goose is gone. It's not like he can be offended they're about to hear his thoughts on their wayward friend, but the point stands. He would never have shown them these without a massive change in attitude on their part.
"Be patient with him."
Ice perks up, huffing amusedly. "Anyone who doesn't will go gray before they reach forty, I'm sure. That, or go mad."
A wry smile curls Carole's lips. "Words to live by, Tom."
She leaves his side with a kiss to his cheek and a squeeze of his forearms that conveys unspeakable gratitude. Ice watches her go. Before long, she kneels down beside Mav, tucking her sundress neatly beneath her while Bradley holds a stuffed animal way above his head. It takes Ice a second to place the critter until Bradley turns it right-side up—a goose. Little Bradley made his goose do an inversion.
Because, of course, he did.
Heart panging, Ice turns away from the scene and pads up the stairs to the guest room Carole insisted they take. He tucks the box under the nightstand. He won't read them alone.
Maybe tomorrow when Bradley and Mav are out, they'll get started.
They owe it to Goose.