SOMETHING BIGGER THAN ME 3

 Part 2 of The Lies We Told Each Other

Famdon: Top Gun (Movies)

Relationships:
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Original Female Character(s), Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Characters:
Ron "Slider" Kerner, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Original Female Character(s), Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Robert "Bob" Floyd, Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags:
Secret Identity, Angst with a Happy Ending, Secret Relationship, DADT Repeal, September 11 Attacks

Summary:
The Navy doesn't care about your personal problems anyway. August 6 is a day like any other, and you must do your duty. Today is to attend the national celebration of White Pearl, a small nation in the Indian Ocean. The State Department and the Defense Department agree for once. When the monarch calls for bodies in shining uniforms to adorn his celebrations and demonstrate that he has US support, they send them. Bradley is one of the Navy's star pilots. So here he is, in his pressed dress uniform and glittering medals on his chest.

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Chapter 3: 2015, August 

Bradley steps out onto the main deck and looks out at the island.

He always feels a little melancholy these days. Not even when he was in the Balkans -Again? Mav complained when he learned of his assignment- could he forget that August 6 is Blue's anniversary. He knows it's pathetic: thirty years old, and a relationship he had at seventeen and lasted six weeks is the most meaningful of his life, but not everyone can find love and keep it. Besides, he's an aviator. His life is not designed for long-term relationships. Or at least that is what he tells himself. Even the DADT repeal four years ago didn't change much for Bradley, except —he smiles at the memory— that he learned then that his squadmates had been covering up what they thought was a torrid affair between him and Jake for months.

That was comedy gold.

Maybe in another universe where they hadn't grown up together. But Jake Mitchell, who now goes as Seresin just to piss off their father, is his little brother, who gives him enough troubles like that.

The Navy doesn't care about your personal problems anyway. August 6 is a day like any other, and you must do your duty. Today is to attend the national celebration of White Pearl, a small nation in the Indian Ocean. They are a constitutional monarchy that manages its oil reserves well and allows the US fleet to use its territorial waters, so the State Department and the Defense Department agree for once. When the monarch calls for bodies in shining uniforms to adorn his celebrations and demonstrate that he has US support, they send them.

This year, the USS George HW Bush was the closest ship, and Bradley is one of the Navy's star pilots. So here he is, in his pressed dress uniform and glittering medals on his chest.

"Ready for the show, Rooster?"

Brad steps away from the rail. Natasha and Bob have also put on their whites -damn, beautiful love stories are all around him-with the difference that their expressions are cynical. They are too young and must still reconcile to this part of the job. They think it's all flying and chasing bad people. He forces himself to smile.

"Ready."

A local government boat comes to pick them up just before sunset. They settle into seats arranged along the deck, with plenty of room for Captain Pollard, Command Chief Wallace, Natasha, Bob, and Bradley. Since the boat has no roof, they can see the beach and port, packed with dancing crowds.

"I thought we were going for the anniversary of the king's coronation, sir?" Natasha asks.

"This is not Great Britain, Lieutenant. Here is a popular festival. The Blue Day, they call it, because it is the favorite color of his majesty Abderramán ven Jotab."

Indeed, everyone seems to be wearing blue on the island, from the wildly dancing masses to the police officers who control traffic. They arrive at the palace after driving slowly through the city in an open-top car. Bradley gets the impression they were part of the day attractions as people waved at them and took selfies with their ride in the background.

They are greeted by a blue-uniformed employee who leads them into a blue-decorated room, where many important-looking people wear elaborate clothing in shades of blue. While waiting for her majesty, they approach the buffet table, where they find all kinds of finger food in fantastic shapes and, of course, dyed blue.

"This is starting to get tedious," Bob says and swallows a canapé.

Bradley shrugs.

"Think about your duty, Floyd." Brad reminds him. "The Navy is something bigger than you. Besides, at least there's food."

Natasha is about to say something, but a fanfare of trumpets takes over the room. All conversations stop, and a voice announces.

"His divine majesty and incarnation of heavenly will in this territory have arrived, malik Abderramán ven Jotab I."

The pilots hastily put down their snacks, wipe their hands, and head back to Captain Pollard and Wallace. They stand facing the saloon entry like the rest of the guests. The large double doors open, and a man in his thirties enters, regally strolling toward his throne.

The king wears a blue shalwar kameez embroidered so densely that the cloth is almost invisible. His hair is dyed metallic blue, and his face is decorated with drawings of fantastical plants in blue pencil. Suppose the strength of a monarchy depends on its apparent connection to the supernatural. In that case, Abderramán ven Jotab I does an excellent job on the representational part: because he does not seem like a being of this world.

In his wake, the successive deep bows generate a human wave throughout the room.

When he comes level with the American delegation, the group salutes, and Pollard, as captain, steps forward to bow slightly. Only his twelve years of military training allow Bradley to hold his own. He wants to run to shore, swim to the USS George HW Bush, and hide in bed until this nightmare ends.

Abderramán sees Jotab I reach his throne, claps his hands twice, and the music begins.

"You have to be kiging me!" Natasha murmurs.

"No," and Bob extends a hand to her. "it's "True Blue." Come, we have a patriotic duty, lieutenant."

Indeed, the court is already dancing with Madonna. She looks at her captain, pleading, but Pollard shows no mercy.

"Make us proud, Trace. We," he points to Wallace and Bradley "have to complete the other part of the protocol."

The trio joins the line of visitors who must congratulate the monarch. The wait isn't long - this is a small island state in the Indian Ocean, after all - and Bradley stands before the throne soon.

"Congratulations on another year of government, Your Majesty," says Pollard.

"Thank you, captain. Who are your companions?"

"This are the USS George HW Bush Command Chief, Patrick Wallace, and Lieutenant Bradley Rooster, a condecorated aviator."

"Ah!" Abderramán's voice acquires a condescending tone. "Admiral Kazansky's son."

"I have merits of my own," Bradley says, unable to contain himself.

Wallace attempts to intervene, but the king stops him with a gesture and stares at Bradley.

"So you are an agent of your own destiny, Lieutenant?"

Bradley feels his entire body suddenly go limp. He's not hallucinating. It's true. He doesn't care who witnesses this. Brad smile for the first time in the day.

"I'm not as sophisticated as Doc Holiday, Your Highness, but yes, I have made my own destiny."

"Do you like the party?"

"I like blue," he evades. "And August 6 was, of course, an excellent moment for your coronation."

"It was. Too bad my cousin Reda wasn't there to share the happiness of my people." the king addresses Pollard again. "I must congratulate you, captain. In previous years, the US Navy never brought me dancers like Natasha Trace and Robert Floyd. Not witty talkers like Bradshaw. This is indeed a gift."

If the comment surprises or confuses Pollard, he doesn't let it show. Just bows his head respectfully.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Enjoy the party."

They stay for an hour, alternating between eating blue canapés, drinking blue mocktails, and dancing with Natasha. The party's soundtrack is made up of songs with the word blue in the title. They recognize pieces in English, Spanish, French, and Urdu. There might also have been one or two K-Pop hits that Natasha swears she doesn't know but hums with suspicious fluency.

Luckily they don't return through the city but are taken to the private dock of the royal palace. Before leaving, they are given small personalized party favors. The bags are scanned as soon as they arrive at the ship, but they don't have anything electronic, so they are allowed to take them to their rooms.

Bradley opens his gift as soon as he closes his bedroom door. He finds an official photo of His Majesty, the sweater with the inscription USNavy that he lent Adib on September 11, fourteen years ago, and an envelope with a first-class ticket in his name for a flight from Mumbai to White Pearl, undated. The envelope also has a small note —and he recognizes the handwriting, of course— "I want those shoes back. They are collectible."

Bradley smiles. He feels that weight is leaving him now that he knows Blue's fate.

It is a family thing: love stories are always strange.