Chapter Text
After the mission to blow up the uranium enrichment facility, Rooster decided to do some extra training at Top Gun along with some of his other teammates before reassignment. He was due for some leave, which he promised to use to visit Mav’s hangar, but for now he was on a hop with Phoenix and Bob and Warlock, practicing tactical maneuvers over the sea.
The storm came from out of nowhere. One moment the skies were clear, the next dark clouds were rolling in off the coast. There was an electricity in the air that meant a thunderstorm was coming.
“This wasn’t on any of the reports, head back to base now,” Warlock’s voice was staticky over the radio.
“Copy, heading back now.” Phoenix said.
Rooster was about to reply when he felt his plane jolt from turbulence. It wasn’t anything he was unused to as a fighter pilot, but it made his hands tighten on the controls. Visibility was getting worse as rain began to strike his airplane. The sound was deafening.
Distantly he heard Warlock calling for him.
With the wind as it was he didn’t trust himself to turn around without being flung further out to sea. His only chance was to get to the center of the storm where things would be calmer and to ride it all the way back to Miramar. He said as much over the radio.
The radio crackled and he thought he heard Phoenix’s voice. “ – safe, Rooster. Better – back – us.”
He smiled as he flew deeper into the storm. The clouds churned above and below him like waves.
“Talk to me, Dad.”
To his left he saw lightning light up the sky, a gash of pure electricity in the surrounding darkness. He smelled a burning smell which he associated to the summer storms of his childhood. As he entered the eye of the storm, lightning struck again.
Rooster’s heart pounded. He always felt the most alive in the air. It made him feel closer to his dad, like the curtain between life and death was thinner up here. With no one to hear him over the radio, Rooster let out a loud whoop as he spun his FA18 around and began to head to shore.
As he got closer the storm seemed to break up, as if it had never been a threat at all. Rooster was used to hops living and dying by the decision of the weather, but this storm felt especially mercurial. It had come out of nowhere, only to disappear again like vapor.
“This is Rooster to Air Traffic Control, requesting permission to land,” Rooster said into his radio.
There was no reply.
Rooster tried again.
Still nothing. Perhaps his radio had been damaged by the storm? Although Rooster didn’t really see how that could be possible.
That wasn’t the only strange thing, as Rooster approached Top Gun he noticed the base looked smaller than he remembered. Several of the newer buildings were missing, and not only that but even from here Bradley could see that the runway was full of planes with tall vertical stabilizers that made them easy to identify. FA14s. Tomcats. Those planes hadn’t been in use since before the 2000s. Something was seriously weird.
Instead of calling to the airtower again, Rooster pointed the nose of his plane upwards, increasing his altitude so as not to draw attention to himself. He flew past the base, before landing in the surrounding desert. While it wouldn’t be an ideal runway when it came to get his plane in the air again, it was the best he could do for now.
Rooster released the canopy and stood up.
The California sun beat down on him, and while he was used to the feeling there was something different about the air. Almost a hint of the electric smell he had felt in the air during the storm. Something was wrong. He ditched his helmet, and flight gear into his plane, promising to be back for them soon. Dressed only in his green flight suit he began the long walk back to Miramar.
As he walked he began to notice other things out of place. The cars he passed looked dated, like from when his parents were young. Only most of them still looked brand new, as if they weren’t almost forty year old models. On a few blocks he saw payphones, and one gas station proclaiming gas to be 0.90 per 9/10ths of a gallon.
At that he paused and took off his aviators to make sure he was reading the sign correctly. The last time gas had been so low was probably the 1980s, but that was impossible. He couldn’t be in the past.
He began to run towards the base, not caring that it was still a good mile or so away. He had to see if the others were there: Phoenix, Bob, Callie, Omaha, Fritz. He had to know that it was still 2019. He didn’t even stop to think how he would get on the base if it wasn’t… if he was really in the past.
He slowed as he reached the security gate, suddenly his thoughts seemed to catch up with him. If this really were the 80s he may not even have been born yet, let alone have a reason to be on Miramar. He was going to have to be careful. He slipped his aviators back on and took a few deep breaths before heading to the guard booth unsure how to begin.
Luckily the guard took one look at him and smiled, “Bradshaw! Thought you had gone out for the night.”
Bradley tried not to jump at being recognized. “Just forgot something, sir.”
“Well you better hurry back, can’t leave Mav unsupervised for long,” the guard joked.
Behind his aviators Rooster’s eyes widened, Mav? Mav wasn’t here, unless… Did this man just mistake him for his father? He swallowed back whatever emotion was threatening to choke him, “no sir, can’t have that.”
“Well get on with it, Goose. Have a good night.”
And there was his proof. His father’s callsign, something that was uniquely his. There was no mistaking who the guard thought he was now.
Bradley nodded and hurried away from the guard in what he hoped didn’t seem like a panic. Luckily the barracks had not changed since the 80’s, and Rooster was able to find his way to them with ease. Hanging in the rec room on the bulletin board were the daily announcements, just like in 2019, only these daily announcements were dated July 24, 1988. Five days before his father’s death.
Bradley took off his aviators and just stared unaware of the tears that had come to his eyes. His father was alive. Hell his mother was alive too. She would be coming to Miramar, bringing a four year old version of him in two days. It would be the last time they had together as a family.
Bradley thought back through his childhood of all the times he had seen his mother cry after losing his dad. He had known she had tried to hide it, but that sadness had always been there behind her eyes. It was there when he started school; when he had taken up piano; all the big milestones like birthdays, graduation, and his first car; and small ones like his baseball games. He knew his mom wished that his dad could see him, and tell him just how proud he was. Bradley had sometimes wondered if the long-aching sadness had contributed to her illness, if in the end she had given up the will to fight because she had known that she would see her angel Goose again.
And it was in that moment the thought crystalized. Bradley could save his father. He could change the future right here, right now. If he did then his mom wouldn’t have to be so sad, and he wouldn’t lose Mav for years because of his stubborn sense of self-righteousness. It must be why he was here, he was sure of it. The only problem was he had no clue how to do it.
Due to the accident having occurred on a military base, he couldn’t just go sneaking around. It would be too dangerous, and the chances of success would be slim. He would need someone on the inside.
And right away, Bradley knew who he wanted to be his inside man. It was the man he had always wanted to know: his dad. If all else failed, he wanted to get to know his father better and for his father to know that despite everything he had grown up okay. He needed to speak to his dad in private, god knew how he was going to convince him of his identity.
Luckily, because of the guard he knew that his father and Mav were out right now. So he just needed to find Goose’s room and wait for him to return. He wasn't not quite sure how to do it, seeing as everyone here thought he was his father so it wasn't like he could ask for directions.
“Hey, Mother Goose!”
It took Rooster a minute to register that whoever was talking was talking to him. He slipped his aviators back over his eyes and turned around. It took everything in him not to gasp.
A young Iceman was standing before him, and he looked good. Neither age nor infirmity had touched him yet, and even though he was young he looked every bit the Commander he would grow to be. Rooster swallowed, reminding himself that this man wasn’t Commander of the Pacific Fleet yet and was just a Lieutenant like him.
“Heya, Ice,” it came out a bit breathless despite his best intentions.
“What are you still doing in your flight suit? Thought you and Mitchell were headed out for drinks.”
“Oh yeah, we did but then I decided to come back. I’m a bit excited with the Mrs. coming out and everything,” Rooster babbled on nervously, hoping he still sounded like Goose.
Iceman cracked a smile, “you always were sweet on Carole even at the Academy.”
“Right. Well I was hoping to get some fresh sheets for my room seeing as how she’ll be in town –”
“I thought she was renting one of those bungalows off base for spouses?” Ice said, raising a brow.
Rooster could feel himself going red. “Are you telling me the great Iceman has never snuck a woman onto base before?”
Iceman barked out a laugh. “You’re a riot, Goose.”
“Right, well those sheets. Don’t suppose you could help me fetch them.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“For fuck’s sake, Mother Goose.”
“Look Ice, competition aside we’re all on the same side here.”
“And that side involves you getting lucky with your wife?”
“Yes it does.” Rooster wished that some merciful god might strike him down to put an end to this conversation.
“Fine.” Iceman said, taking the lead.
Rooster hurried to follow him.
“What about your kid?”
“Hm?”
“Bradley?”
“What about him?”
“Well if you’re sneaking Carole on base, who will watch him?”
“Maverick.”
Ice snorted. “Jeez, your faith in that guy really is a wonder.”
Rooster bristled slightly. “He’s a good man, Ice.”
“Sure he is, just not a very good aviator.”
One day he’ll save your life, Bradley thought. Although if my plan succeeds who knows if that’ll even happen. Bradley tried not to worry about that.
They had reached the supply closet. Ice opened the slatted door and began pulling out fresh linens and dumping them into Rooster’s arms.
“There you should be all set.”
“Walk with me to my room,” Rooster said, praying that Ice knew where Goose’s room was.
“Seriously? Don’t tell me you need help making the bed.”
“Fuck off.” Did he seriously just tell the future Commander of the Pacific Fleet to fuck off?
It must have been the right thing to say because Ice just laughed and began walking. Bradley hurried after him.
“You know, Goose, I respect you a lot as a RIO.”
“Thank you?”
“And if you ever wanted to fly with a different pilot – a safer one –”
“Woah there Ice, does your RIO know about this?” Rooster asked.
“Slider’s a good man, but he and I both know that not all partnerships last a whole career.”
“Yeah well some do.”
“Your loyalty to Maverick is admirable, how do you know he’s worthy of it?”
“Trust.” Bradley said, and he meant it both speaking as his father and for himself.
“Maverick is lucky to have your loyalty. There are far better aviators who have yet to experience that sort of blind faith. Just make sure it doesn’t get you killed.”
“Yes, sir. That’s the plan.” By now they had stopped outside a room which Rooster presumed to be his father’s.
Ice gave him an appraising look. “You are an odd one, Goose. Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight, Ice.”
Ice gave him one last strange look, before walking away. Once he was alone in the hall Bradley slumped down against the wall. He was exhausted, the day’s events were beginning to catch up with him. He could only hope his dad would show up soon, but even as he sat on the floor he couldn’t stop his eyelids from drooping. Sleep began to tug him under.
He awoke to someone gently shaking his shoulder.
“Hey man, are you alright?”
Bradley looked up and found himself face to face with his dad. The other man was crouched before him, brown eyes full of concern. Rooster was the spitting image of him, he could see why people on the base had assumed they were the same person. The only difference was his dad’s hair was straight and cut much shorter, and his face was a little longer.
“Um, I’ve been waiting for you.” Bradley said, it felt like his whole life he had been waiting for this moment – a moment he had never dreamed to be possible.
Goose raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“We need to talk, in private.”
“Guess you better come in.” Goose stood, and Bradley hurried to follow suit.
Goose unlocked the door to his apartment, and Bradley followed. He carefully set the sheets down on the couch.
“Those for me?” Goose asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Didn’t know the Navy finally decided to add room service to the barracks,” Goose teased. “I don’t think I caught your name.”
“Bradley.”
Goose smiled at that, obviously thinking about his son. “Got a last name, Bradley?”
“Bradshaw.”
The smile died instantly on Goose’s lips, “this some sort of joke? Wolfman or Slider put you up to this?”
Bradley tore off his aviators. “No, sir. My name is Bradley Bradshaw. My parents are Nick and Carole Bradshaw. I was born June 27, 1984 in White Chapel, Virginia. I graduated from UVA in 2009, and became an ensign in the United States Navy in 2011. I was promoted to Lieutenant JG in 2013, before making Lieutenant in 2015. I have attended Top Gun twice, and flown on countless missions, and I am your son.”
Goose stared at him in the eyes, taking him in fully.
Bradley reached for his dog tags and pulled them off his neck before offering them to his dad.
Goose took them running his fingers over the letters and numbers before staring back at the man before him.
“How old are you now?”
“35.”
“Jesus Christ,” breathed Goose. “So that means you’re from – ?”
“2019.”
“35. My son is 8 years older than me, great balls of fire.”
“So you believe me? That I’m your son?” Bradley asked, unable to stop his voice from shaking.
The corner of Goose’s lips quirked up, his voice thick with emotion, “course I believe you. One look at you and anyone would know you were mine.”
Goose opened his arms, and Bradley instinctively fell into them. It was the first hug from his father in 31 years. He breathed in the scent of his aftershave, even after all these years he had never forgotten it. It was so familiar that Bradley couldn’t help but cry, as his father just pulled him in tighter.
“It’s alright, Bradley. Whatever this is, we’re going to figure it out.”
Bradley began to sob as he allowed his father to hold him. Goose was barely taller than him, but he still knew how to hold him like a father should. Bradley felt like a little kid again, like he was safe so long as he had his father’s arms around him. Once he had settled down, he pulled away from his dad.
“Think I’m going to need a beer to take all this in. You?”
Bradley nodded.
Goose went to the fridge and pulled out two beers. He popped off the lids before bringing them to the couch. “So want to tell me how you ended up in 1988?”
Bradley took the one offered to him. “I was doing this hop when this big storm rolled in out of nowhere. I flew into it, and when I flew out it was the 80’s.”
"You doing some of that risky pilot shit and it got you into this mess?”
“No, dad,” Bradley said, rolling his eyes. He blushed at the realization that he had so casually called Goose dad. “Oh – sorry – this must be so weird for you.”
“Weird for us both. But I don’t mind you calling me dad, at least not when it’s just the two of us.”
Bradley smiled.
“So you didn’t do anything then?”
“What could I have done to get me transported back to 1988?”
“Well you weren’t in a time machine or anything, like in Back to the Future?”
“No. It was just a standard hop. Even in 2019 the Navy does not have time machines.”
“So you just randomly end up here? Why?”
Bradley looked away. This was the hard part to explain. “Dad. There’s some things you should know about the future.”
Goose looked at him expectantly.
“You die this week. On Hop 31. There’s an accident, and you don’t make it.”
“I see.”
“I think the universe sent me back here to change that.”
“Change that how?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ve got five days to figure it out.”
Goose glanced at the clock. “Four days.”
“Fine, four days. But I figure between you, me, and Maverick we can figure something out.”
“And your mother?”
“What?”
“How is she in the future? Did she remarry?” Goose sounds so young, and Bradley is forced to remind himself how young Goose is despite him being his father.
“She never remarried, always said she was too busy trying to raise me right.”
“And other than that, is she happy in the future?”
“She died.”
Goose’s posture stiffened, his hand tightening around the beer bottle’s neck. “When?”
“When I was 16.”
“How?”
“Cancer. She was sick for a long time, fought like hell right til the end. But I think there was some relief for her in those final months, I think it’s cause she knew she’d see you again,” Bradley said softly.
Goose looked distraught. “So you want to save me so I can watch my Carole waste away for years?”
“I don’t know if that’ll happen again. I don’t know what saving you will change. Maybe the cancer will never metastasize, maybe with you there she’ll be able to fight it off. I don’t know, but I have the chance here to grow up with both parents at least for a little while. I'd be a fool not to try and take it.”
Goose studied him for a long moment. “Okay, deal. But we don’t tell your mom about this, I don’t want her worrying any more than she has to.”
“Fine. But we tell Mav. I trust him.”
Goose smiled. “Yeah, so do I.”
“It’s getting late, we should probably get some sleep.”
“Sure. We can use those extra sheets to make up the couch for you. I think there are some spare pillows somewhere,” Goose said, as he began to make up the bed.
“Is this why they call you Mother Goose?”
Goose laughed. “Only Ice and Slider call me that as an insult, but yeah.”
“I met Ice.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, he thought I was you.”
Goose laughed.
“We talked about your sex life.”
Goose choked on his laugh. “You did what?”
“I had to sell that I was you,” Bradley said, before launching into his explanation of how he had found his father’s room.
“Great balls of fire,” Goose said at the end of it. “You’re going to make me go prematurely gray.”
“Isn’t that what kids are for?”
“And he really asked if I wanted to be his RIO?” Goose asked.
“Yeah. He respects you dad, they all do,” Bradley said.
Goose ducked his head, and Bradley realized despite all the bravado that came with being a naval aviator, deep down his dad was embarrassed by the genuine respect his colleagues had for him.
“Well I couldn’t leave Mav, he’d be absolutely helpless without me.”
“I agree,” Bradley said with a sad smile.
Goose took him in, trying to read him before looking away. “We’re going to need to think up an alias for you while you’re here as you can’t keep impersonating me.”
“I’ll go by Bob Floyd, it’s a common enough name.” Bradley prayed that Bob wouldn’t mind him borrowing his identity for a few days.
“Sounds good.” Goose stood up, and went to the bedroom. Bradley watched him go, a little sad to be left alone already. However, before he could despair, his father returned holding a Navy sweatshirt and sweatpants.
“Figure you can’t sleep in a flight suit.”
“Thanks, dad.” Bradley said taking the clothes from him
“Of course, Bradley. Now get some sleep. I’ve got classes early tomorrow, but after we’ll find a time to talk to Pete. You can give us both the details of this accident then.”
Bradley changed and got ready for bed. He fell into one of the best sleeps of his life despite the couch being far too short, and not very comfortable. Bradley Bradshaw felt like a man who had finally come home.