𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍



↳ 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫 'see the fire I will defend, just keep on burning right to the end'







━━ 𓄼 𓄹 ━━

USS THEODORE ROOSEVELT Undisclosed Location



ABOVE THEM, the glory of dawn was slowly being eaten by low hanging clouds of a distant storm. Waves beat against the side of the carrier, but once the canopy clicked shut above her, the only sound Cam heard was her own breathing.

"All good, Berlin?" Fritz asked as he ran through their pre-flight sequence.

She stared out ahead at the runway. "I'm good." And for once, it was true.

"Dagger One, comms check," Maverick said.

"Dagger Two, up and ready," Phoenix responded.

Bradley's familiar drawl filled her ears. "Dagger Three, up and ready."

Cam adjusted her helmet. "Dagger Four. We read you, Mav."

"Dagger Spare is up and ready. Standing by," Hangman said with only the barest hint of bitterness. "Jaw still hurts, Berlin," he said over her private channel.

"Put some ice on it while we're gone," she jeered, running the test on her fire lights.

"Copy," he said back. "Hit 'em hard, Cameron."

It might have been the first time he had said her full name.

They hung in awkward silence, waiting for Maverick to respond to their roll call. She could hear the chatter of Fritz's coms behind her as he listened to the radar reports.

Finally, Rooster asked, "Sir, do you copy?" Silence. "Sir?"

Maverick's voice sounded slightly choked. "I want to thank you all for trusting me to lead you. You're the best of the best–it's an honor to be flying with you. All of you."

Cam smiled. He was talking to them all, but mostly to Bradley. She thought again of that plane roaring through the open sky of the desert. The cowboy on a motorcycle who had rescued them. Years ago, and it had brought them all here.

"We're with you, sir. All the way," Phoenix said.

"Forget the sir, Phoenix. We're all the same rank today. Dagger One, up and ready on Catapult One."

They received the go signal, and Maverick and Rooster were launched first. She watched the Super Hornets blitz across the deck and rip off into the sky. A catapult officer signaled to her and Phoenix with a two-finger wave as she flipped the engine start switch and throttled it to full.

Phoenix's voice crackled through the static. "See you on the other side, Cam,"

There were few feelings in the world that she never tired of. The roar that filled her bones was one of them. Cam saluted the officer, and they were off.

Fritz whooped in her ear, smacking a fist against the canopy once the force of takeoff had lessened. Trim adjustments kept the climb steady, the foreboding clouds expanding around them. "Long time since we've done this for real!"

"Too long," she agreed. Cam took a breath and adjusted her gloved grip on the controls. Now or never.

Maverick's steady voice came over her coms. "Taking it down to one hundred feet. Dagger is set. Proceeding to Bravo. Ready on my mark."

"Two," Phoenix said.

Then Rooster. "Three."

"Four," Cam finished, placing a finger on the timer start button.

"Mark," Maverick said.

"Two minutes, thirty seconds," Fritz whistled as the clock began. "Crazier things have been done before."

"But not many," Cam said as she nosed the jet into a steep dive back below the dark clouds, following tight to Rooster's lead in front of her. Mountains rose around them. She had always had a taste for adrenaline, but this was entirely different as they continued to dive into a gulley, just above an icy ravine. It was all crags and jagged pines, just as unforgiving as the hard floor of the desert.

Static crackled. "You can do this. Stay cool. Stay cool."

"Rooster, my friend, your com is on," Fritz said, biting back a laugh.

Maverick spoke again before he could respond. "Dagger attack." The picture was clear. They were in it now.

Cam kept her grip steady as they drifted back and forth between cliff faces. It was an air race, a clear day at home, a flight over the ocean. Every single time she had flown a plane flooded over her all at once. They cut scarily close to a trestle bridge, flying right through a gap between its bents.

"Berlin–" Fritz began.

"Better not to ask." She could see the SAMs up on the top of the ridge. Her heart raced. If they had flown even slightly too high, it was over.

"SAMs right over our heads. No movement," Bob said with a sigh of relief.

"Looks like we're clear on radar, Mav," Phoenix said, almost giddy.

"Let's not take it for granted," he told them. "The worst is yet to come."

The Gs increased with every turn. It pulled at her body, yanking her arms down like lead weights as she maneuvered them through the ever-compressing canyon. Sweat was beginning to bead on her face. Ahead, Rooster's wing shaved off a section of tree tops as he banked.

"Ouch," Fritz winced. "Two minutes to target. We're falling behind, Berlin. Increase speed to five hundred knots."

Instead of picking up her pace, she was forced to further drop her speed. She breathed heavily and flipped the switch to extend the flaps to match Rooster's pace lest she run into him. "Rooster, do you copy? We're falling behind. We gotta move."

Only silence met her as they continued to slash through the canyon. Phoenix and Maverick were barreling ahead, and eventually they dipped out of sight.

"Lost visual on Mav," Fritz told her with disappointment.

Frustration gripped her. "Rooster, do you copy?" she repeated.

"Ninety seconds to target," Fritz said unhelpfully.

Cam's eyes were wide as saucers. She knew what was happening as if she were watching it in front of her. Bradley was choking. Hesitating. It was dangerous, and going slow was the misleadingly safe option.

"We're disengaging, Rooster," she said. "Pick up the pace."

Finally, he responded. "We're okay. We're okay."

"We are not okay!" Fritz was incredulous, babbling on to quench his nerves. "We're way behind. You gotta go. You shoulda got goin' already."

Her radar blipped. There was impact on the enemy runway as the Tomahawk missiles sent from the carrier hit their target. "They know we're coming now," she muttered.

"We're running out of ti-ime," Fritz sang.

"Focus on the pop-up strike," Rooster shot back.

"Air-to-ground check complete," Fritz sighed. "Laser code verified 1688. Master-arm to go." A small alarm began to ring. "Shit, deadeye. Targeting pod malfunction."

Maverick finally weighed in. "You have exactly thirty seconds to get it working. We're counting on you, Fritz."

Cam heard a chorus of "Shit, shit, shit–" behind her. She leaned her head back slightly. Part of her wanted to give up now. The rational part of her knew that there was no longer the luxury of a choice.

Her radio beeped and a com from command came through. It had to be pretty bad if they weren't going through Mav. "Dagger, Comanche. Contact, two bandits, 30 miles north of bullseye, targeting you."

An icy bolt of fear cut through her. "Where the hell did they come from?"

"Long range patrol?" Fritz offered.

"One minute to intercept," Maverick relayed. "Rooster, we're tight on time if we want to outrun those bandits. Where are you?"

They continued to strain through the turns. Their targeting pod shuddered on the bottom of the fuselage, and then Cam heard it stabilize.

"I got it!" Fritz said gleefully. "Targeting pod is online."

Cam shook her head. The world outside the canopy blurred, the horizon tilting violently. "It won't make a difference if we don't step on it. Rooster, bandits are inbound. Come on."

It was barely a whisper in her ear, but she could have sworn she heard him say, "Talk to me, Dad."

Cam watched as Rooster finally pulled away.

She grinned wildly, pushing her own throttle down and adjusting the flaps, but he was still increasing his speed. It was a mad race to keep up with him now.

"Now we're cookin' with gas!" Fritz said with approval.

"Take welded wing, Berlin," Bradley told her. She matched his maneuvers stroke for stroke.

"Target in ten seconds," Fritz said.

The hiss of the air systems faded into the background, Cam's focus a razor's edge. Once they came around the next bend, they could see Maverick and Phoenix again.

"Dagger One and Two, I have visual. We're on your six," Rooster said, finally in his element.

"You're just in time. Let's deliver the mail and go home." Maverick responded.

Cam heard barely anything on the radio as Maverick and Phoenix ran the pop-up sequence. She watched it happen ahead of her, and it still felt like a game. Reality refused to take its full hold. The mountain face rose ahead of them.

The target was obscured by a massive plume of smoke in the wake of Mavericks' direct hit. She knew that the celebrations would be subdued, even when command heard the success. This mission had fifty moving parts that all needed to align for them to come back in one piece.

And then it was their turn. "Berlin, popping in three... two... one." Rooster rolled in, putting nose on target in a 45 degree dive. "Fritz, where's my laser?"

"Targeting. Seconds away," he assured them, still fighting against the malfunction. Cam heard the panic barely veiled behind his voice.

Cam's breath hitched in her throat. The altimeter was dropping incredibly fast. 6000, 5000. "Come on, come on," she muttered.

"Got it, captured!" Fritz shouted. Rooster released the bunker buster just in time.

"Time to climb, hold that target, Fritz," she said, nosing the plane up into the sharp climb. G's pulled at every fiber of her being and the mountain rose in front of her.

The feeling of panic didn't dissipate, even as Rooster's bombs hit home. As they crested the mountain side and she was able to breathe again, she was greeted by an all-out madhouse. Now that she was in range, she could hear the chaos on her coms. All at once, their radios were a cacophony of shouts. There was swearing and shouting amidst the hellfire of SAMs everywhere.

Cam dodged and weaved, pulling every evasive maneuver she knew. Fritz fired volley after volley of fire, and then moved onto flares. They were nowhere near getting into the valley again and getting out. Her arms ached.

"I've got missile is lock, I can't shake 'em!" Phoenix shouted. Cam watched her flight path cross theirs.

"Already on it, Dagger Three," Fritz told him. There was an extra beat of silence where there should have been the sound of their Gatling gun. "Shit."

"What?" Cam asked, but she already heard the tell-tale sound. They were out of bullets, flares, everything. No one had been prepared for this. Every detail, and still something managed to fall through the cracks.

Fritz could still read her mind. "We've only got speed now."

She nodded. This time, she trusted him to make the call. Sweat was dripping from her forehead to her lips and she tasted salt. Salt in the sea. "Phoenix, get out of here. I've got your six."

"Berlin, you're too close! Don't be the hero now."

"Kind of the point, Nat," she told her, managing a small laugh.

Adrenaline surged as she maneuvered into a steep dive, banking hard to intercept the missile meant for Phoenix's jet. Her F-18 was directly in the missile's path and it locked onto them instead, veering away from Phoenix and Bob's tail.

"No!" Rooster protested, but his yell over their coms was cut off by a jolt of static as the missile exploded against the hull of her jet.

Alarms rang out in the cockpit with the sound of a critical system failure. It was miraculous that they were even still in the air. She brought the nose down towards the snow dusted trees, drifting away from the base's landing strip and feigning a complete engine failure. The best chance they had was to get as far away from enemy fire as possible.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against the roar of the world outside. There were so many apologies to be made, she wasn't even sure who it was that the words were directed at. The words were almost a prayer. Atonement.

"Cameron, what are you doing?" Fritz demanded as she began to initiate the ejection sequence.

"Saving your life. Eject now!"

"Cam, I'm not–"

"Wasn't a question." She flicked the switch and the cockpit opened.

With Fritz safely ejected, Cam focused on her own survival. She pulled her own ejection lever just as the jet began to spiral out of control.

The mechanism was jammed.

Wind screamed. She yanked and pulled in every possible direction, but it didn't move. The ground wasn't getting any further away, and she was going to have to jump. Dimly, she remembered some kind of training for this. It had to be timed correctly, and so would the moment when she deployed her parachute. There was no time for hesitation. She unclipped herself from the seat and leaped from the jet and into the open air.

The parachute deployed too slow as she fumbled for the release. By the time it opened, she was almost too close to the ground for it to be useful. She hit the snow hard, rolling to absorb the rest of the impact.

Metallic blood coated her tongue. It was suddenly hard to breathe. It sounded like a plane was crashing again, over and over and over until it all just rang out like a broken alarm.



𓄼 𓄹



"BERLIN!" Bradley yelled over his coms. Nothing but static silence.

"Dagger 4 is hit. I've got eyes on Fritz's chute," Bob said mournfully. "Nothing on Berlin."

Loss flared through his body and choked Bradley's breath. He was still flying the jet, maneuvering between enemy planes, but his focus had been split. Mountains rose in the distance and he imagined, for a brief moment, what it must feel like to stand at the peak.

"They're everywhere," Rooster said, somewhere between a statement and a question. There was an alarm for another missile, and as he tried to return the sound with his own missiles, he realized he now shared the same problem as Phoenix. "I'm out of flares!"

With no wingman left, it was a hopeless cause. He looked back and to his right. The missile was all he could see until another F-18 filled his view.

"Mav don't–!"

The missile slammed into the engine and a blast of molten fire shredded the splintering end of Maverick's jet. Pete Mitchell, the man of legends, was plummeting towards the earth in a ball of flames.

Bradley had held the foolish hope that they would all make it back. All four of their jets, safe and sound like Amari's toy planes in the sandbox with a happy ending. Their mission was over. This should be the part where everyone went home.

"Dagger One is hit," Phoenix relayed solemnly. "I repeat, Dagger 1 is hit. He's going down."

They flew into the valley, using the distraction of the two downed jets as cover. The SAMs on his radar went still. Finally, they were out of range.

"Dagger 1, status. Status. Anyone see him? I didn't see a chute," Rooster said into the coms. It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous. But this couldn't be the end. In one fell swoop he had lost the two people he had only just gotten back. This couldn't be the end.

"He's gone, Rooster," Bob said.

"We have to circle back," Rooster argued.

A new voice came over their comms. One of the comms techs with a foreboding warning to round it off. "All Daggers flow to ECP. You have Bandits headed for you."

"What about Maverick?" Rooster demanded. "And Fritz. We saw his chute!"

"Dagger, you are not to engage. Repeat, do not engage," the comms tech told him. Cyclone's orders, he knew.

Bradley said nothing. He was in charge now.

"Dagger Two. Return to carrier. Acknowledge."

"Rooster, Bandits are closing," Bob warned. "We can't go back."

Bradley wasn't giving up that easily. "Comanche, picture."

"Dagger, Comanche, bandits 30 east. Hot on you. Flow west to evade."

"Rooster, they're gone," Phoenix said sternly. "They gave it up for us to make it out of here. We owe them that."

"We have at least one pilot confirmed alive on the ground. I'm not gonna just let them die."

Rooster watched in the distance as something near the base began to move, swift as a shadow. It was a Hind helicopter, a ruthless Cold War weapon that had never become obselete. Bradley clocked the .50 caliber cannon just as it opened fire on the ground, right near where Maverick's F-18 had gone down.

There was an open lake off to the right of the trees. Bradley looped back and flew low, ignoring the shouts and protests of Phoenix and Bob in his ears.

He fired on the Hind, acting completely on instinct. It exploded in a gratifying shower of shrapnel and sparks. Bradley banked and looked down. He saw Mav's white chute draped over the branches, but not Mav. An alarm began to blare.

"Rooster!" Phoenix screamed again.

"Oh shit," Bradley muttered. He was too slow to consider that he was back in range of the SAMs.

And he had no flares left to throw.

The missile hit with a jolting blast. He only had time to run the eject sequence. There wasn't even room for the thought of what might happen when he was left exposed to drift through the air. Nothing left but the feeling of the open air hitting him without mercy.



𓄼 𓄹



THE chill of snow came first.

Cold white light came next. It filtered over her closed eyelids like a dream of another life. Destined to be blown apart into the breeze. To rot into the ground. Nothing more than the root of an old tree.

Distantly, something began to ring. The sound became sharper and more shrill until it took the shape of her name.

"CAMERON!"

Her eyes snapped open with a shuddering breath. A blurry shape blotted out the light in front of her and it took a concerning amount of time before she recognized Fritz's face hovering above her. The world stopped spinning and there he was.

"I thought you were dead," he muttered. His expression flooded with relief and he looked up at the sky. "After that stunt you pulled–I thought you were gone."

Carefully, she pulled her aching limbs up with a wheeze. "I feel dead. Holy fuck that hurt."

He began to laugh. Chest shaking with laughter, he told her, "I saw your jump. Very Mission Impossible."

She found the strength to grin. "I might go into stunt work." Her breathing finally steadied as she unhooked herself from the parachute and stood up next to Fritz. Her head ached, and there was a high chance she had at least a mild concussion.

Fritz looked out at the forest around them. There was a deep cut to the side of his face, but he looked otherwise unharmed. Snow fell and stuck in his hair. He nodded his head, as if he had finished his calculations. "We're gonna die here."

They might. There would be no extraction team coming for them. "Maybe," she agreed. The cold was already beginning to cut through her flight suit. They were so far away from the landing strip, the only sounds were a dull roar. There was no telling what had happened up above. Her only hope was that there were three jets returning home in one piece.

Fritz stepped over a log. "I hope there aren't bears in these woods."

"Might be a kinder way to go than freezing to death."

"Aren't you being optimistic."

They walked until the snow suddenly became less deep. Cam looked to her left and realized they were standing on a narrow service road. Tire tracks had cut through the powder in lines of gray. They were recent.

She saw the Jeep before Fritz did. Just before they were in anyone's line of sight, she yanked Fritz by the arm and pulled him behind a bush. "I saw it," he nodded.

"How good is your hand-to-hand combat?" Cam asked, almost breathless.

"Well," he craned his neck. "Not as good as yours, I'd bet."

"That makes this easier. You can be the bait."

He made a quiet noise of dissent. "Seriously?" Cam and Fritz exchanged a quick, silent look. Fritz's expression shifted from hesitant to resolved. "Fine."

Cam grinned. The adrenaline was starting to dull the edge of her headache and she felt dangerously invincible.

The Jeep was pulled over on the side of the road, clearly stationed to monitor the comings and goings of the road. Fritz stood up and began stumbling toward the vehicle, making a show of looking dazed and injured. Cam kept low, moving quietly through the underbrush parallel to the road. As Fritz approached the vehicle, the men inside stepped out and approached him with cautious but aggressive intent.

"Hey fellas," Fritz mumbled, swaying slightly. "Help a man out?"

Momentarily, the two of them were confused, which was Fritz and Cam's only true weapon. Only one had a rifle drawn, and they seemed more bored than anything else. Cam understood the feeling. No one wanted to pull guard duty.

The moment they got close enough, Fritz lunged as if stumbling drunk but landed a solid punch on the closest man's jaw. Cam sprang from her hiding spot, tackling the second guy before he could draw his weapon. He tried to smack her in the face with the side of the rifle, but she maneuvered out of the way. The fight was short but brutal, and it didn't end until she struck his throat with a sharp, forceful jab, cutting off his air supply instantly. As he staggered, gasping for breath, she delivered a decisive blow to his temple, knocking him out cold. The man collapsed, unconscious.

Fritz already had his guy on the ground. He was removing the fallen man's dark jacket and helmet. "I win."

"Didn't realize it was a competition."

"Always a competition." He opened the passenger door of the Jeep, tossing in the helmet first. "I call shotgun."

Cam slid into the driver's side. She turned the keys and said a silent prayer as the engine came to life with a loud thrum. Snow kicked up in their wake as they sped off down the road in the opposite direction that the Jeep had been facing. Tree branches swayed over the road, hiding them from view.

It was silent for a while until Fritz said, "I think we're goin' the wrong way."

"No, we aren't," Cam argued.

"We definitely are." He pointed out the windshield. "I can see smoke in the direction we're headed."

Cam huffed. "Want me to pull over and ask for directions?"

His sardonic laugh filled the vehicle. "That would be nice, actually–look out!"

Cam slammed on the brakes as a figure ran out in the middle of the road, hands held out in front of him in surrender. With disbelief, Cam stuck her head out of the still-open window. "Maverick?"

Pete Mitchell looked equally confused. "Cameron?"

She got out and slammed the door behind her, leaving the engine running. Fritz got out behind her. "What in the fresh hell are you doing down here?"

"We were gonna commandeer the Jeep," he told her as he approached.

"Ten steps ahead of you, big man," Fritz said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Hold on," Cam said, holding out her hands. "Who's we?"

"Me and Rooster."

"What?" she yelled again, incredulous. Her head spun. What had happened up in the air? "Is Rooster down here, too?"

Maverick pointed behind her and she turned. Sure enough, Rooster was picking his way out of his hiding spot in the brush.

"Is there anyone else down here?" Fritz asked, leaning against the Jeep. "One more and this might be a party."

"Cam?" Bradley said, utterly bewildered. His cheek was red with the beginnings of a bruise, but otherwise he looked unharmed.

"Bradley?" she asked. "How the hell–?"

"You're okay," he breathed, taking in the sight of her. "You're okay." She could tell he was holding himself back. His dark eyes danced with worry. "I didn't–no one saw your chute."

"It got jammed. I had to jump," she told him bluntly. Her headache was slowly creeping back in. "How did you get down here?"

He shared a look with Maverick. "Savin' his ass."

"After I saved yours," Mav shot back.

"Seems counterproductive," Fritz remarked.

"What happened to Phoenix and Bob?" Cam demanded.

"As far as I know they're on their way back to the carrier," Maverick told her. She sighed with relief. At least someone had made it out.

Fritz pushed himself off the Jeep. "Anyone got any bright ideas on how to get out of here?"

"What does your training tell you?" Maverick asked.

Fritz scoffed. "Really? We're in class now?" Maverick waited. Fritz sighed and tipped his chin up to the sky. "We already pinged our ESAT. We could make for the extraction point, keep to the service roads until we have to go on foot. I studied the maps. It's doable."

Cam let out a sardonic laugh. "That extraction point was a joke. They don't even know we're alive down here. They might run recon in twenty-four hours once it's safe, but by then we'll be dead in a snow drift."

"Buzzkill," Fritz coughed.

"There's an F-fourteen down there, in one of their hangars," Maverick said slowly. "Saw it when I was closer."

"You've gotta be shitting me," Bradley said. Maverick just shrugged. "An F-fourteen?"

Maverick looked slightly defensive. "I shot down three migs in one of those."

"When was that? World War One? We don't even know if that bag'a ass can fly!"

"It'll fly," Maverick assured him.

"So, that's the plan?" Cam asked. "You guys fly the museum piece, me and Fritz drive the Jeep out to the extraction point?" She had said it almost as though it were a joke, but Maverick looked deadly serious.

"By the time you get there, someone will already be waiting," Mav assured him. "Me and Bradley will make sure of it."

"And we all live happily ever after," Cam muttered.

Maverick looked at the three of them, who were all in various states of disbelief. "So, thoughts?"

"And prayers," Fritz said, kicking at the snow.

"Good enough for me. Use a compass this time, Cameron," Maverick told her with a reassuring nod. All of that confidence and still, she could tell he was wary about splitting them up. "We'll see you again in no time."

Fritz was already getting back in the Jeep and shrugging on one of their stolen uniform coats. Cam turned to follow, looking away before she was forced to make any real goodbyes.

"Cam, wait," Bradley called out. She heard him jogging back over.

So much for that. She turned around again just as he pulled her into his arms, crushing her in his hold. Safety rushed over her and she never wanted the feeling to end. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his chest. "I wasn't gonna leave without saying goodbye."

"I thought I said no goodbyes," she laughed softly, trying not to cry. Exhaustion pried at every sense in her body. "Be careful up there, Bradshaw." She had the easier job ahead of her. Bradley was running straight into the line of fire again.

He shook his head, lips quirking up into that cocky grin. "Don't worry about me."

There was no reservation in his eyes as he cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her. Everything she had ever said about the timing, all the reservations she had about letting him in, they were all gone now. Her body flared with heat and her knees nearly went weak. When she finally stepped away, she pressed a hand to his chest.

"See you later," she told him quietly.

He pressed another soft kiss to her forehead. "See you later."

They parted ways and Cam started up the Jeep again, this time placing her compass on the dash. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Fritz's elfish grin. So they hadn't been very discreet after all.

"Would you knock it off? We've got some long hours ahead of us," she sighed, focusing on the road. But her mind kept drifting back to the thought of kissing Bradley again when this was all finally over.

"Fine, fine." Fritz just crossed his arms, smug. "But when we get back home, Nat owes me some money."



━━ 𓄼 𓄹 ━━



















a/n this story comes so easily to me and I will never be able to understand why. I read back through the old dialogue and I'm just floored that it all came together so fast when I came up with this idea two years ago now 🫣. I do, however, have a problem with finishing things, so I'm here to say that there's only one chapter and an epilogue of this story left and the next part will be posted one week from today : )

if anyone is still here to see this story through, thank you for your unwavering support as I try to finish something I started a very long time ago. let me know your thoughts - I love reading comments!