ROOTS 16

Chapter 16: Bloodworth  

Summary:

"Of course! It's just that..." he sighed. "It's been a long day and... Look, I really don't want to have this conversation on the phone. Can we meet on Monday?"
"No tomorrow?" he sounded obviously disappointed.
No, Jake decided. I need a little more time to know what lies I will tell you.
Ice reaches for the folder he had left on the table.
"I know Brig is waiting for news, you have to say something. You saw how well our family did with the "it's a military secret" excuse. Here's Rachel Seresin," he hands him the folder.

-------------------------------------

Part 4 of: The Lies We Told Each Other

Fandom: Top Gun (Movies), Thunderheart (1992), Madam Secretary

STORY INDEX: http://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/the-lies-we-told-each-other-4-roots.html

 

 

University City, San Diego, Sunday, November 17, 2019

 

"May I?" he asks while tapping his knuckles on the open door a couple of times.

Jake turns around, surprised.

"Dad?"

His expression exudes tenderness and surprise at the term. Then, he seems to realize how vulnerable he looks and looks away for a moment. When he looks at him again, his face is more controlled.

"I brought you something," and he raises one hand, holding a folder.

"Its not... You don't have to bring me anything to come to my room. Come in, please."

He moves his desk chair beside the bed and makes an inviting gesture. He then sits on the bed. Kazansky enters slowly, his eyes carefully fixed on the floor. He leaves the folder on the table and takes the place his son offered him.

Jake realizes something.

"Why did you stop coming here?"

The man looks at him, surprised again.

"I don't know…"

"Please don't lie," he cuts him off, exasperated. "I think that after yesterday's confessions, you can tell me all the other truths, right? You stopped coming into this room when I was about five or six years old. I know. I never gave it much thought before, but now I realize it is contradictory: You always looked for excuses to be close to me, but that," he points to his door, "was like a glass wall."

His dad bites his lips, sighs, and seems to come to a conclusion.

"It's because of Rachel's photo," he finally admits in an embarrassed tone. "I couldn't stand seeing myself like that... crossdressed."

Oh! It's precisely what he imagined, but not for the reasons he thought: his dad didn't mind him talking about Rachel because she was his love rival, but because it was his past. What did that girl tell him that was the word? Yeah! Deadnaming. It is a specific type of violence against trans people: using their birth name and not their true identity. Of course, Jake didn't know it. He was a child, and he acted in good faith. But his insistence on finding out about his (supposed) mother forced the rest of the family to play along. Mom Carole, iná Sarah, and his father did know that mentioning Rachel hurt him, but they couldn't do much either. Jake looks around and feels the bitterness like a blow to the chest. How many more little details hurt his dad all these years?

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright…"

"It's not alright! Stop saying it's alright! You are the backbone of this family, and we have treated you like shit."

"It was necessary," Ice stops, thinks a little. "Jake, you have to understand that you were not the problem. You were a child. Brad, Sam, Sean, you, it wasn't your fault. Neither do your mothers or your father. It was I who decided to pursue a career in an institution that denied my existence. Yes, it hurt me that you talked about Rachel like someone real, but it's a sacrifice I was willing to make for you." He takes his hand and shakes it affectionately. "You're my son, Jake. That's how it works."

Jake opens his mouth to say something else but thinks better of it and closes it. After all, it's true: they won't get anywhere if just remembering all the mistakes they made.

"Okay," he concedes resignedly, "but you have to promise that you won't let anything pass from now on. I want you to be happy, dad," he concludes a little anxiously.

"Just hearing you call me dad is a great help. Now, what I came for. Have you talked to Brig yet?"

Jake makes an uncomfortable face.

"Yesterday, yes. It was complicated."

Complicated is an understatement. 

After crying for a while in their reunion hug, father and son had calmed down enough that the family could start to discuss their plans for the future. They were told of the veiled offer to Ice to be Secretary of the Navy in President McCord's second term and of their divorce, retirement, and marriage plans.

"Yes," Mav said with a dreamy expression, "I will go from being a lover to a trophy husband."

Sarah rolled her eyes mockingly.

"Sure. Because all these years you were taking advantage of him while I raised the children and scrubbed floors, right?"

"Just like that. He even gave me a hangar in the middle of the desert to…"

"Don't mention your sex life again, Mavdad!"

"Seriously, what went wrong with you little brother?" Jake complained. "I've never seen a straight guy so sensitive."

"I have a theory." Bradley proposed. "When my mother died, you were three years old. After that, Icepop went to Maryland, and Mavdad stayed here. You two," he points to Sarah and Pete, "were pretending to be friends, so your interactions were intentionally distant. You grew up seeing a couple who didn't show physical intimacy, Sean, and you got the idea that your kuŋkákepi were asexual beings. Any evidence to the contrary short-circuits your brain."

Sean tilted his head and frowned thoughtfully.

"It could be." He finally admitted, turning to Jake. "Can you give me your therapist's number?"

The family burst into laughter.

After that, it was Bradley's turn to announce that he, too, was leaving the Navy and proposing to Blue. There was a round of applause, congratulations, and -of course- variations of "it's about time."

"From secret lover to Prince Consort of White Pearl," Sam said slowly, mockingly, with arms raised. "You are certainly marrying up."

Bradley stuck out his tongue at her. She ignored him to ask what was truly important.

"Do you think Megan and Harry will go to the wedding?"

But the older brother just shrugged.

"A state marriage, eighty percent of the guest list will be decided by the chancery."

"Well, I'm going to tell you something that neither the White Pearl Foreign Ministry nor Elizabeth McCord's White House will decide: Elia and I want to have a baby."

That sparked another round of congratulations.

Finally, they went down to dinner with light hearts but exhausted bodies. Saturday had been a rollercoaster of emotions.

When he returned to his room, Jake found a single message from his boyfriend: "36 hours." How long it had been since he heard from him. He called him immediately. Brig answered on the second ring.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. You?"

"Worried about you, nothing more," he paused briefly, "and tired of being at base, really."

"Don't they let you out?"

Jake became suddenly uneasy. Had something happened that made them need the squad again?

"Calm down, love. I just don't want to go anywhere without you. On the other hand, I have Omaha and Halo trying to soothe me," he explained without hiding his amusement.

"Soothe you?" It couldn't have been anything bad if Brig laughed, but it was definitely strange.

"Yes, they think you left me for Bradley, or for Mitchell."

"Oh! Well, they are wrong," now it's Jake who giggles. "Do they think my name is Hangman for nothing? I do things in a big way. I left you for Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell."

Brig let out a cry of false outrage.

"Really?"

But he didn't last more than a few seconds before he started laughing. It was a light, contagious sound. Jake could imagine him flopping onto the bed and settling against the headboard.

"So you fix things with them."

"Yeah."

"And they told you the truth about Rachel," because Brig never loses sight of his interests.

"They told me, and it is…"

Jake stopped mid-sentence because he didn't know what to say. He didn't want to lie to his boyfriend but couldn't betray his dad's trust either.

"It's complicated," he admitted with a sigh. "More complicated than I expected, and definitely a matter of national security."

"So Rachel was Mossad?"

Of course, Brig didn't mean it, although in the long nights he listened to Jake guess about Rachel's identity, they imagined all kinds of scenarios, from architect to beauty queen.

"No," he was glad to be able to tell him something with confidence. "That I can assure you: no foreign intelligence agency was harmed during the conception of this aviator."

"Good."

"I want to tell you," he assured him, suddenly afraid that Brig would distrust his honesty, "but it can't be over the phone."

"It's okay, love. The main thing is that you are sure they told you the truth this time."

"Oh, yes, it was the truth. It's such a bizarre story that they couldn't have made it up."

But as he said it, he realized he couldn't tell him the truth. His dad never told Wolfe and Hollywood that he was trans, so he wouldn't be able to now... He is proud of his father and his dad, but it seems like he will never be able to brag about it outside the narrow framework of his family.

"When are you coming back to Miramar?" Brig suddenly asked.

That took him by surprise.

Return to base? To what? He has a home in San Diego and a desperate need to catch up with his family. It would be better if Brig came to stay in University City during the bye weeks, right? The bed and wardrobe in the room are clearly for two people. But he can't make that decision on his own.

"I don't know," he finally admitted and decided to go with half the truth. "It's been eleven years since I hugged

them, Brig."

His boyfriend noticed the hesitation in his voice.

"Jake, are you really okay?"

"Of course! It's just that..." he sighed. "It's been a long day and... Look, I really don't want to have this conversation on the phone. Can we meet on Monday?"

"No tomorrow?" he sounded obviously disappointed.

No, Jake decided. I need a little more time to know what lies I will tell you. Oh! So this is what his dad was talking about. Now that he knows, he is obligated to keep the secret. He is forced to lie. Maybe when his dad retires for good, in ten or fifteen years, but not now. Definitely not now.

"No. Monday."

"Okay. But at least send Javier a message. He is worry too."

"Okay, as soon as we finish talking."

He hung up, sent a message to Javier, "I'm fine, reconciliation underway," and fell onto the bed. The euphoria he felt had evaporated. Instead, the weight of what he had just learned was beginning to settle on his shoulders.

He slept badly. When he woke up, he did not remember the plot of his nightmares, but the bitter taste of fear was in his mouth. He managed to go to breakfast pretending to be well. It was seven in the morning, and only the men of the family were in the kitchen.

All conditioned to get up early by the Navy.

Breakfast was lovely, with his parents smiling and touching him affectionately. They were always very tactile in their family, and Jake had missed that.

Now, his dad is in his room and stares at him with blue-gray eyes, like the winter sea. It seems to him that he can see through all his doubts and lingering questions.

"Complicated." Kazansky repeats his son's last word with a sympathetic tone. His eyes become evocative. "I remember my first date with your father, I didn't know whether to sabotage everything or give him a chance."

"Did you get to first base?"

"Of course not. We went to eat pizza, and he told me I had cheese in the corner of my mouth. He tried to wipe it off with his thumb."

Jake covers his face in embarrassment.

"How cheesy."

"My reaction was cheesier. I leaned back and started to stutter," he smiles, Jake can tell that the memory still amuses him. "Luckily, he is Maverick. Always ready to improvise. Without changing his expression, he offered me a napkin and invited me to Thanksgiving dinner a week later. There, we had our first kiss."

Jake stops laughing because he suddenly realizes where his dad wants to go.

"And when did you tell him...?"

"Almost three weeks later. Slider realized I was trying to break up with Mav and came down from Coronado to shake me. He told me that, for once, I should risk being happy."

The mention of Kenner makes Jake sober again.

"I owe an apology to Slider and Cougar, right?"

"Yeah. Slider also owes you one," his tone is final. "What he said at the funeral was outrageous. You have never stopped being our son, Jake, you never will stop being our son."

"You didn't stop being my dad either. I tried," he admits in a regretful voice, "I swear I tried, but your genes are strong. Seeing things around me and starting to organize them in my mind is simply instinctive."

"You also fly like Mav."

"Have you seen me fly?"

"I have read the reports and seen recordings." he admits. "Since you graduated you have been very coveted, you know that? The insufferable Koehler couldn't stop bragging."

"My commander on the USS Eisenhower?" Jake has a distant memory of the man. He doesn't remember talking to him, even though he spent more than a year on that damn ship.

Ice nods.

"I know you didn't want me to get into your life, Jake. You had good reasons for it, but… You are my son."

He suddenly looked embarrassed.

"Dad... what did you do?"

"Koehler wanted to separate you from Brig. I don't know how he planned to do it, but he told me it was the only way to make you tougher. I couldn't allow it. You love each other. I consoled myself by thinking that if you already hated me, it didn't matter if I pulled some strings.

"So those two places in VFA-151 Vigilantes..."

"Yeah. Gregory Huffman was indebted to me."

"Indebted to you?" he repeats, bewildered. "What do you mean? Shouldn't it be the other way around? You indebted to him for receiving me?"

"Of course not! Everyone wants you, Jake. Human resources almost had to beat commanders aside with a stick when they were deciding which squadron to send you to in the fall of 2013. Two years later, the predictions had been exceeded. But I chose the USS Stennis because Huffman has no patience for bigotry of any kind."

"And no one suspected that you were interested in me like that? Out of the blue?"

His dad's face turns sly.

"Could I have made it seem like I was doing Wolfe a favor?" he says with false innocence. "My interest was Brig and you, the bargain I used to make the offer attractive."

Jake opens his eyes in surprise. It would never have occurred to him that Brig is also technically a nepo-baby. Thinking about his boyfriend reminds him of the awkward conversation that awaits.

"About Brig. We're supposed to meet tomorrow. I came here straight from the boat and he's anxious."

"I can understand that," the father nods. "Don't worry, your iná cooks for battalions."

"I don't understand."

Kazansky looks at his son with concern. Did he cross any boundaries without realizing it?

"Didn't you just say that Brig will come tomorrow?"

"No."

He swallows dry.

"Okay." He tries not to let the disappointment show too much. "Of course, you have no obligation to bring him here." He forces himself to smile. "Surely you are not interested in having sex almost in front of your kuŋkákepi's room. Of course, you can go back to Miramar with your boyfriend, Jake," but he can't help but show how much he needs him. "Will you at least come to dinner later this week?"

"No! What are you talking about? Of course I don't want to go back to the base housing, dad. Who in their right mind goes to in base housing when they have a home?"

They look at each other in disbelief. Ice sighs and massages the bridge of his nose.

"I think I got ahead of myself again, right?"

"Yes, by far." Jake takes his hand. "You owe me eleven years of hugs, dad, I'm not going anywhere. Relax, okay?"

"I'll try."

"About Brig, I was thinking of seeing him in a cafe in San Diego, but I didn't know if I could bring him here."

"Of course you can bring him! That boy loves you, he is welcome. When your iná redecorated," he makes a gesture encompassing the room, "she did it thinking that you would come with Brig. We know that you... Look! All the walls are soundproof, okay? Your privacy is guaranteed." He notices a look of discomfort on his son's face and hastens to add. "You can bring anyone else, too."

That last clarification doesn't make Jake happy. His dad's awkward, supportive performance only reminds him that he must also come clean with his family. But first things first.

"The problem is that I don't know what to tell him. Brig knows I came to demand the truth about Rachel, and now..." He drops his head in defeat.

"That's what I came to talk to you about," Ice says, reaching for the folder he had left on the table. "I know Brig is waiting for news. Eventually, you'll have to tell other people, too. Machado and Vikander are interested in your family, too, although for different reasons. I don't want to force you to lie, son, but..."

"I will never reveal your secret," he quickly assures him.

Ice nods, his eyes shining with trust and affection.

"I know, but you have to say something. You saw how well our family did with the "it's a military secret" excuse. Here's Rachel Seresin," he hands him the folder.

Jake opens it curiously. It only contains one page. It looks like a summary of a file. In the upper left corner, the seal of… the CIA!? Yes, according to the title of the page, it is the summary of one Rachel Sophia Levoi (alias Rachel Seresin) file, a CIA agent killed in the line of duty.

Born: March 17, 1960, Los Angeles, California.

Death: July 11, 1997, Paris, France.

Most significant physical features: 1.72 meters tall, blue eyes, blonde hair

Recruitment: Filed during the last year of high school. Invited to an Agency-funded university in the summer of 1977. Hired upon graduation (summer, 1981).

"The CIA really has a recruitment program through a private university?"

Tom shrugs.

"You think convincing people to run around the world lying is easy? They have an even worse reputation than the Marines."

Jake snorts and keeps reading.

Excels in: costumes, accents, marksmanship.

Relatives:

Mother: Karin Kowalsky (1940-1989)

Father: Samuel Seresin (1940-1967)

Siblings:

1) Raymond Sean Levoi (March 17, 1960). University of Oregon (1981): Major in Political Science, minor in Criminology. FBI Academy at Quantico (1982). Agent specialized in covert missions. They have maintained minimal contact since 1977. Contact in case of emergency.

Added 1987: Agent Levoi was recruited by agents of the Aboriginal Rights Movement (ARM) and betrayed by the United States government. NEVER CONTACT.

2) Thomas Seymour Kazansky (March 17, 1960). Notes: Adoption closed at birth through the Sisters of Charity at San Vicente Medical Center in Los Angeles. He ignores the existence of Raymond and Rachel.

Added 1987: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky is one of the Navy's best aviators. It stands out for its respect for the rules. He is expected to progress as an officer. Contact in case of emergency.

Son: Jacob Raymond [covered in black ink] (April 1, 1991). Notes: The father was assigned full custody [covered in black ink]. NEVER CONTACT.

Instructions in case of death: cremate and scatter ashes in the Pacific Ocean.

The rest are paragraphs that supposedly summarize her years of work for the agency. There is more black ink than words, but that doesn't matter.

Jake closes the folder and puts it aside.

"Do I want to know why the Sisters of Charity managed secret adoptions?"

Ice makes a gesture of disgust.

"You already have enough nightmares."

He nods.

"So you're my uncle? My mother's twin? Isn't that a bit over the top?" Jake smiles. "It's almost like a Days of our Lives, Dad."

But Ice's eyes are serious.

"That rumor that you are the product of a Pentagon experiment?"

"Yeah?"

"They didn't tall it to me as a joke, but as part of an attempted blackmail. They threatened to reveal to Sarah that you were my son and Pete had only signed the papers." He raises a hand to stop Jake from speaking. "I didn't tell anyone. It was nothing I couldn't handle, but… are you aware of how similar we are, physically?"

"Well…"

"A lot. You also have a strong resemblance to Sean. So, I want to put an end to that. We deny the rumor by confirming that we are family. Period."

"Okay," Jake agrees with a nod.

After all, his dad has defied the limits imposed by the Navy and the Pentagon for over forty years. He can trust his judgment.

"And then we have Brig. Wait, let me finish talking, or we'll go back to the mess we made a few minutes ago. It's not good to have secrets in a relationship. They poison the air, son. You guys have been together for a long time," Jake feels himself blushing. He thinks it depends on how you count it, "and it is a stable, solid relationship. I want you to decide if you will tell him the truth," he puts his hand on the folder, "or the whole truth."

Jake's eyes widen, surprised.

"Wolfman and Hollywood don't know."

"And I don't plan to tell them," Ice nods, "but they're my friends. Brig has been your partner for eleven years. It's different. I want to rebuild our relationship, Jake, but not by sabotaging your love life. If you want to have someone to brag to that you are the son of the two best pilots in the Navy," he winks, "I'm not going to stop you."

"Thank you. I think... I'm going to call Brig to come over right now."

"Perfect," Ice stands up. "I'll tell Sarah that we'll have someone else for lunch."

 

University City, San Diego, Monday, November 18, 2019

 

"Dad, father, iná, sister, brothers. I think it's time for me to be honest with you, too. For a long time, I have hidden this part of me, and I believe that I can't be less after all the honesty and courage that Icepop showed us a few days ago. I am asexual. That means that I don't feel a physical attraction to people, and that sex actually seems dirty and meaningless to me. Before you start with the questions. Yes, I am in a relationship with Brig. I'm asexual, not aromantic. No, that has nothing to do with you having to leave, Dad, or my other childhood traumas. Being asexual is as normal as being bisexual, or trans, or straight. I was born like this. I don't need to change, or heal, or find a good sexual position. I want you to accept me like this. I don't want you to act different around me now, except for one thing. I really want you to stop making jokes about my sex life with Brig. They make me feel very uncomfortable," he stops to breathe and dares to look at his audience. "What do you think?"

His boyfriend looks at him from the bed with a frown. Jake, sitting bolt upright at his desk, holds his breath.

"You sound a little desperate."

Jake exhales, doubles over a little, and desperately runs his hands through his hair.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why do you talk about how something could," makes air quotes with his fingers, "cause your asexuality? Your family is like, the last of the families that would try to cure you of anything related to sexual preferences, Jake."

"But no one else is..."

Brig moves to the edge of the bed and takes his hand.

"And that doesn't matter. In fact, I don't understand why you want to do this whole coming-out thing. We're together, Jake. They accept us as a couple. What we do or don't do in bed is no one's business. What does it matter if your sister...?"

Jake glares back at him.

"You think I should just let it pass? That I don't care? I care a lot. I want my sister to stop making jokes about our sex life. They sicken me! But it is more than that. I want my family back. At least in my home, I want to be seen and respected for who I am, not who they imagine me. Every time I say that society's obsession with sex creeps me out, they look at me in disbelief. When I deny being attracted to famous people, Sam says I'm a prude. They think I purposely shunned you all these years. And it's not just about misunderstandings or bad jokes. It's about being seen, Brig, about not lying by omission or letting them fit me into their idea of me. I don't want to be invisible!" he collapses after the tirade, puts his head in his hands, and adds softly. "My sexuality is part of that."

Brig looks at him dumbfounded.

"I had no idea you cared so much."

Jake shakes his head gently. His eyes wander around the room, uncertain.

"I didn't care until... do you have any idea what it was like for my dad? Living more than half of his life pretending, even inside his house. He let me call him Rachel, monster, child robber. All to keep the fiction that he was cis. I can see how it has hurt him, Brig, and I don't want that for myself," he looks into his eyes without trying to hide his fear, "or for you. I don't want to get bitter and hurt you. I want an oasis, a haven, a safe harbor where I don't have to pretend that my love for you is measured in orgasms or kisses."

"OK." his boyfriend nods, "That is an excellent out of the closet speech."

"The what now?"

"Nothing about you being normal. Okay? Nothing defensive. You state this is your identity, and you want the family to recognize and respect it. That is all. If they want to learn, they can type asexuality into Google. You don't have to justify yourself, Jake. To anyone."

 

Daggers Squad WhatsApp group, Tuesday, November 19, 2019

 

Fanboy: Did you see his email? 🤩

Fritz: Seriously, Garcia, you have to calm down.

Fanboy: 😜 You're married, I'm not.

Fritz: Fitch! Hold him.

Fritz: Or you'll lose your WSO to sexual harassment charges.

Payback: 😒

Payback: At least you only see these texts.

Payback: I live with him.

Halo: For real, Garcia, you're too old to have a "gay awakening" or any of that shit.

Bob: Sexuality is fluid, people can realize the diversity of their feelings at any time in life.

Halo: 🤦

Phoenix: I have no idea what to get.

Fanboy: nsjfdvln sdlnscjkls

Payback: Nat, you can't drop bombs like that.

Payback: He threw his phone on the floor and ran to get the laptop to reread Maverick's email on the big screen.

Fritz: Doesn't it say to just bring our “wonderful personalities”?

Bob: I already told her.

Bob: He's our CO, and we don't have to get anything.

Bob: She doesn´t believe me.

Omaha: Isn't anyone going to mention the elephant in the room?

Rooster: Don't get anything, Nat.

Hangman: Elephant? I thought it was a Thanksgiving barbecue.

Halo: Neil is deep with another of his crackpot theories. Where are you, Seresin?

Hangman: Right now, in San Francisco.

Hangman: We must celebrate we're alive!

Omaha: It's not a crackpot theory, it's a possibility.

Rooster: 👀

Payback: Hey, Seresin, do you know the area where the captain invited us?

Hangman: Yes. Good slopes for cycling. 😂

Rooster: 😒

Rooster: and you say it

Bob: Did you wear a helmet and safety accessories?

Hangman: 😏

Hangman: I'll tell you when we meet.

Rooster: What possibility is cooking in your brain now, Omaha?

Rooster: = crackpot theory

Omaha: Do you think Maverick is married?

Fanboy: He's not married, he doesn't wear a ring.

Coyote: He told us he had four children.

Yale: 🤣

Yale: Education in Texas is really BAD.

Yale: Machado doesn't know that you can make babies before your wedding night.

Yale: 😜😜😜

Coyote:🖕[3 😱, 2 🔥]

Hangman: WOW. Calm down Javi. [8 👍]

Harvard: Not married, but as if he were.

Harvard: They have been together for more than 30 years.

Phoenix: The perks of being a nepo-baby.

Fanboy: 😭😭😭😭😭

Halo: Is it just here or...?

Payback: He went to hide in the bathroom.

Harvard: 🙄 I agree with Fritz, you have to hold him.

Bob: People process loss at their own pace. We must respect García's mourning.

Halo: 🤦

Yale: I don't think that applies to breakups with imaginary boyfriends, Bob.

Yale: Especially if the imaginary boyfriend is 30 years older and your CO.

Phoenix: I still feel like I should get something. My mother raised me well.

Hangman: Beer.

Hangman: Corona.

Omaha: 😮

Phoenix: Thanks, Hangman.

Omaha: How do you know that?

Hangman: To become a high-ranking officer, you must pay attention to details.

Hangman: 😎

Rooster: Really?

Rooster: [gif of a wolf in sheepskin]

Phoenix: Hey, nepo-baby, have you been to Maverick's house?

Harvard: Of course.

Fanboy: Of course?

Harvard: 🥱

Harvard: Top Gun? Anyone?

Phoenix: 🙇

Phoenix: Some parking advice?

Harvard: 🤔

Harvard: There is free parking nearby, on Governor Dr and Genesee Ave.

Harvard: From there, it's 10 min walk to the house.

Bob: If there will be beer, we should agree on designated drivers.

Halo: 👍

Halo: I propose Fanboy [8 👌]

Hangman: You're evil.

Hangman: 😘

Hangman: In favor.

Fanboy: Et tu, Reuben?

Payback: 🤷

Coyote: I can be a designated driver. [7 👍]

Hangman: 😢

Hangman: I was planning to get you drunk so you would sing.

Coyote: 😅

Coyote: Sing with María Celeste.

Coyote: She doesn't need alcoholic courage [5 🥳]

Bob: I don't drink. [9 👍]

Payback: Do you want to trade WSO, Trace?

Bob: 😲

Fanboy: 😱

Hangman: 😆

Fanboy: 😡

Bob: 😨

Hangman: That's why I fly alone. The drama outside the cabin.

Omaha: Sure 🙄

Omaha: [gif of two planes in cobra maneuver] [2 🤐 1 🫣 3 😜]

Phoenix: No, thank you.

Harvard: 😆 [Hangman 🤨 this message]

Rooster: 😅

Phoenix: Hangman, stay away from Rooster.

Phoenix: Your cynicism is rubbing off on him.

Harvard: 🤣😂

Hangman: I won´t be active for a while.

Hangman: I must research how to get rid of a body in the desert. [3 😬, 2 🔥, 1 💣]

Yale: Oops.

Fritz: Sorry for the delay.

Fritz: Was checking the reserves.

Fritz: We will bring 3 bottles of whiskey. [6 👏]

Fritz: Omaha, weren't you saying that Hangman was done with Harvard?

 

Dana Bowers Viewpoint (Vista Point), San Francisco, Tuesday, November 19, 2019

 

Jake gives his boyfriend one last handshake and gets out of the car with a determined step. For a few hours, he was in a cocoon of Elton John´s music, which accompanied them during these hours of travel, and jokes from the squad's WhatsApp group. He had a great time sending messages from his phone and Brig's while his boyfriend was driving.

Now, it's just him and his mistakes.

Although it is Tuesday afternoon, the Golden Gate observation deck is overflowing with tourists. No one pays him any attention as he approaches the two men, pretending to look at the statue of the lone sailor.

"Mr. Cortell, Vice Admiral Kerner," he greets formally.

Cougar lets out an exasperated growl. Slider gives him a clearly irritated glance.

"Do you expect me to call you Lieutenant Seresin?" he snaps.

Jake sighs at the hostile tone and forces himself to be patient. He went on the eight-hour road trip; he's not coming back before settling this.

"I don't know," he admits. "Last time we met, you didn't even use my name, I was just Brig's boyfriend."

At the mention of the funeral, Kerner's face softens. His features reflect some shame.

"Yeah. Not one of my best moments. I was on the edge that day."

"We were all like hell that day," Cortell intercedes. "Too many things have happened in a very short time," at Jake's confused look, he gestures with his hand as if removing invisible objects. "Don't worry, you'll catch up. You have a speech prepared, I assume?" he says in an uninterested tone.

It's the nonchalance of the phrase that convinces Jake that this is important, very important to them.

"Yeah. I have it. But first, I would like to know why I was summoned here."

That they wanted to see him on neutral ground did not surprise him. The location did. They were both invited to Thursday's barbecue at home, so they will come down to San Diego tomorrow. He could even imagine it as a power move by Cortell, who lives here because he is a top executive at United. But Slider shouldn't even be on the Pacific coast: he has been working in DC for two years.

The two men exchange a look. Jake can recognize a bit of knowing melancholy in their gestures. He understands that this place has a special meaning for them. Finally, Cougar talks.

"The first air carrier Tom was assigned to left this bay in the fall of 1982. I meet Slider here through a mutual friend."

"He set me up with a whore," Kerner growls.

Cortell shrugs.

"I have friends in many places, it is one of my skills. I wanted to know what kind of man he was, if he would take good care of his pilot, or may betray him when things got thought."

He looks at him knowingly, and Jake understands what he means. He can't imagine what would have happened to his dad if he had been discovered in the eighties. Jail? Hospital?

"I told him not to worry. That his boyfriend would return safely from Japan." Slider says mockingly.

"You said that?" Jake is frankly horrified. He turns to look at Cortell. "What did you answer?"

"As appropriate, I punched him in the jaw. I then explained that I loved Tom like a brother and just wanted to be sure that he wouldn't try to get into his pants."

Slider lets out one of his usual contemptuous grunts.

"I have never understood this thing about liking men, really. We are all…" he opens and closes his hands, unable to verbalize it. "Women are the most beautiful thing in the world," then adds something else in a low, thoughtful voice, as if it was something that has always bothered him. "Lesbians have an unfair advantage."

Cougar ignores him and continues his story.

"When they returned from the first deployment, it was Slider who called me. I flew here from Chicago. He wanted to talk about… well, Ice."

"The only trans people I knew were on Castro Street," Kerner moves a hand vaguely towards the city, "and Tom looked nothing, not at all, like those people. Tom was not a clown nor a madman. He was, is, a man like few others."

Jake grimaces at the implied comparison, but the vice admiral shrugs.

"It was the eighties. I won´t apologize for my language. Anyway, Ice is a pilot like few. I wouldn't betray him because he had a hole instead of a stick between his legs. I never betrayed him."

From the look he gives him, Jake understands that he was the only reason Kerner considered doing it. What could it have meant to these two men to see him go? How tempted were they, especially in the early years, to give him a shake and tell him the truth? No wonder they were so aggressive. The helplessness they must have felt!

"So, this place became our place to talk about Ice," Cougar finishes. "It seemed only right that everything ended here," and he fixes his eyes on the statue again.

That's his cue, right?

"Yes, it's fair. Uncle Cougar, Uncle Slider, I want to apologize to you. I misjudged you. No. That's not fair. I judged you well: you were loyal to my dad even when I acted like an insufferable stubborn. I didn't know how to appreciate what I had, and I hurt him in the process. I thank you, also, for taking care of him when I couldn't. I promise you that from now on, I will be by his side. I will be the devoted son he always deserved."

"Damm right, he deserves it." Cortell nods, clasping his hands behind his back, and tilts his head slightly to look at him harshly. "Ice only deserves the best."

His jaw is tense, his lips are tight, and his eyes… Oh! Jake feels very sorry for this man who has loved his dad for so long without expecting anything in return, but also admiration.

Slider's voice interrupts his thoughts.

"Nice speech," his face still expresses the same disapproval of the last decade. "But I prefer actions, Lieutenant Seresin. How do you plan to be the son he deserves?"

This is a test, of course. Jake can't predict the future, only do better.

"We have agreed that I will be his nephew in public. I don't plan to skimp on my displays of affection. About everything else, I will listen to him, trust him, and honor him wherever I go."

Slider still stares at him intensely as if undecided about believing him.

"Ron..." There is something resigned, almost sad, in William Cortell's tone.

Finally, Kerner shakes his head and snorts.

"Don't hurt him again, Jake. He couldn't stand it," he says in a demanding, almost agonizing tone.

It is precisely the exact phrase his iná used a few days ago when he returned home.

"Of course."

"Okay," he admits reluctantly, "then I guess we're at peace."

"I'll see you at the house on Thursday," Jake says goodbye and walks towards the car.

Brig is sitting on the car's hood, arms crossed over his chest, swaying gently to something in his headphones. He stops the music with quick gestures when he sees him approaching and opens his arms.

Jake dives into the hug without hesitation.

"All good?"

He nods silently without removing his face from the crook of his boyfriend's neck.

"I saw what you did on the squad's WhatsApp."

Ah! Bless Brig and his incredible ability to distract him.

"Yeah?" he says with false innocence.

"I think we should give them some proof that you didn't bury me in the desert. Or Omaha will have a stroke or something."

"Okay."

"So, Castro Street?"

"Okay."

 

University City, San Diego, Thursday, November 21, 2019

 

The parking lot of the mall Harvard directed them to is almost full because it is Thanksgiving, and, of course, everyone has last-minute shopping, but they find three spaces relatively close to each other. Rooster is waiting for them, leaning on the trunk of a stunted tree that grows on the sidewalk of Governor Dr. Is easy to recognize him: he is wearing one of his usual Hawaiian shirts over a dark T-shirt and jeans. He smiles when he sees them approach.

"I see you didn't get lost," he says in greeting.

"No," Natasha denies and hugs him.

Maybe she puts a little more than her usual force into the squeeze, but she hasn't seen her friend since they separated on the dock. Fuck good manners.

"Well, let's walk."

The area changes as soon as they cross the traffic light at Governor Dr and Genesee Ave and enter the residential area that opens to the north. There are only houses here. As it is a holiday, the sidewalks are full of people walking from one place to another, preparing their dinners or family gatherings.

Javier and Maria Celeste carefully study the neighborhood. Jake is Captain Maverick's son, and they go to his house. Does that mean this is where he grew up? Most of the people they see are white, but they notice some Latino and black families. Of course, it is an affluent area.

The whole group realizes this slowly and begins to exchange uneasy glances. This site seems to be way beyond Maverick's capabilities.

"So... has Maverick lived here for a while?" Payback dares to ask when they have already been walking for five minutes.

Rooster giggles in amusement.

"We moved in March 94."

"We?!" Phoenix looks at him in amazement.

"You really didn't pay attention to the film." Rooster complains, but his voice is amused. "Let's see, Fritz."

"Yeah?"

"What does Wolfe's book say about the relationship between Maverick and my father?"

"Well…"

The man wrinkles his forehead as he strains his memory. He shifts the bag where he carries the whiskey bottles from his shoulder and mutters a few things in a very low voice. He raises his surprised eyes to Bradshaw.

"He's your godfather."

Bradley nods and smiles slightly.

Javier and his wife exchange confused looks.

Omaha makes an "I told you so" gesture at Halo. She rolls her eyes. Her pilot said they were ex-lovers, so he was not right, not even close.

Phoenix's eyes widen, unsure whether she should feel admired by her friend's discretion or offended by his lack of trust.

Bob frowns, trying to fit this into what he knows about them.

Fanboy wants the earth to swallow him. The things he said about Maverick in front of Bradshaw! Payback tries to comfort him by patting him on the shoulder.

Yale doesn't even flinch.

Bradley continues talking as they round the final bend.

"After Hoop 31 and Goose's death," he notices that Bob is looking at him strangely, but he won't call him father. He can't, "my mom decided to stay in San Diego. Maverick felt guilty, so he stayed close. A few years later their own children were born." he deliberately ignores Fanboy and Omaha's gasps of surprise. "So eventually, they decided to pool the resources of several families to buy a house where we could fit comfortably."

"So, you grew up in a kind of commune?" Yale asks.

"No," he answers quickly, although it would have been an exciting possibility, "only in an exceptional family." he stops, bows, and opens the gate with a flourish. "Come in."

But the group is frozen on the sidewalk. Rooster invites them into the biggest house on a street full of big houses.

"This is a fucking mansion," Omaha gasps.

The spell is broken when Sarah Kazansky appears on the house's doorstep. She wears a long, wide, beige dress and a dark blue apron that adjusts it to her body.

"You made it!" she greets them with her arm raised. "Come up, come up."

The Machado couple is the first to walk through the garden. Natasha stays last, giving Bradley a questioning look.

"What are you not saying?"

He is tempted, yes, but the way Icepop planned it is much more fun.

"I promise you it's good."

She snorts but nods and heads to the portal.

"Nice to meet you, María Celeste. Jake has told me a lot about you," Sarak Kasanzky says.

She barely keeps her formal smile.

"Only good things, I hope."

"Of course." Sarah moves away from the Machados and raises her voice to address the entire group. "Normally, I would tell you to go directly to the patio walking around the house, but it is November. We organized an area for coats and purses in the dining room. So please continue through the living room and into the kitchen. Don't worry about the shoes, we put a silicone cover to protect the wooden floor. Lieutenants Trace, Fitch, and  Vikander, you can leave your generous contributions of beer in the cooler that you will see just outside the kitchen on the back terrace. Lieutenant Avalone, my husband is eager to try your family's whiskey, but please don't let him overdo it. Do you understand?"

Fritz looks at her with wide eyes of surprise and hesitation. Who should he obey, the Commander of the Pacific Fleet or the Commander's wife? But Sarah doesn't wait for him to decide. She gives him a shark-like smile and nods to make it clear that, in reality, there should never have been any doubts about who has greater authority in the matter.

"I'm glad we understand each other, Lieutenant. Bradley, did I miss something?"

Her eldest son comes to her side in two strides and smiles at her, amused.

"No. I think you covered it all."

"Good. Then, at your own pace, follow the yellow rubber road," she says, heading towards the back of the house.

They can see a path of horrible bright yellow rubber squares arranged on the wooden floor of the mansion. It is half a meter wide, crosses the hall, and continues to the right until it gets lost in a curve that must lead to the dining room and kitchen of the house.

Bradley stays with his squad, which is moving slowly because the yellow path follows the living room wall, and (as planned) they begin to stop to look at the myriad of family photographs. Despite the reception, they are clearly surprised to see the wedding photo of the Kazansky couple next to…

"Is that Maverick's wife?"

"Wow! The captain picked up a model? Neat."

"Thank you, Payback."

"You're welcome?" He replies, confused, to Rooster.

"That's my mother," he explains. "Kazansky and Sarah, Mav and my mother married on the same day. At Miramar Base, in fact."

Omaha opens his mouth to ask something else, but a squeal from Natasha cuts him off.

"Bradley, did you play baseball?"

"Yes, in the little league."

"What position?" Bob wants to know right away.

"Second base."

The Machado couple goes ahead. They are looking for another person in the photos, and it seems to them that they found him.

"Is this Jake?" Coyote asks, pointing to a photo of the family hugging on Wolfe and Neven's porch in the spring of 2001.

Bradley looks at them, surprised. Their kuŋkákepi are easily recognizable. He, too, since he was already seventeen. But he didn't expect them to recognize his misun there, when he was only ten years old. Javier and Maria Celeste look at him with distrust and curiosity. He still smiles. That weekend at Fyrosity Vegas Skytravel will always be a fond memory.

"There I was with my siblings. The twins were turning ten, and the youngest was six. We traveled to Nevada because the twins' birthday gift was flying for the first time."

Javier narrows his eyes, frustrated, because that's not what he asked. He has a silent conversation with Maria Celeste while the rest of the group comes to analyze the photo.

"It's true that he looks a lot like Seresin."

"Yes, but polite and without his insolence."

"Flying for the first time at ten years old? Wow, that's starting early."

"Why are Kazansky and his wife there?"

"Where are Kazansky's children?"

"Are those three your mother's children too?"

Bradley only directly answers the last question.

"No, my mother had died in '98. Cancer. I was his only biological child."

Then he tilts his head and smiles.

"But for you to understand the photo, I must explain something first. I told you this house was a collective project. Sarah Kazansky and my mother realized that everything would be easier if they supported each other while Maverick and Iceman flew around the world. With my father's pension and their four wages, it was a feasible project. So, I grew up as an older brother to Samantha and Sean Kazansky. They are the girl and the youngest boy in that photo."

Fritz slaps himself in the face. He seems desperate for a drink of his family's whiskey.

"Are you like Iceman's nephew?" Natasha groans, again torn between feeling betrayed and hurt or amazed and happy.

"And the other child?" Coyote insists.

Bradley looks to the kitchen, makes a small gesture with his eyebrows, and extends one arm.

Jake takes a deep breath, pushes himself away from the counter, and walks toward him. He doesn't dare to look at the rest of the squad until he feels secure in the weight of his c'iyé's arm on his shoulders.

"The other child is me, yes."

"This is my brother, Jacob Raymond Mitchell. After an epic tantrum, he decided to reject the family legacy and rise on his own merits, using his mother's last name."

The squad looks at them in silence, stupefied. Only the sounds of the patio, which come muffled by the distance and the wall, enliven the scene.

"You're both like the archetype of nepo-babies," Bob muses, looking at the house, the photos, and the pair of brothers leaning on each other casually.

"I almost forced you to discuss your parents' sex lives," moans Fanboy, a little green.

"You really broke Samantha Kazansky's heart, huh?" Coyote sighs.

"But Maverick never..." It is evident that Yale is thinking about the weeks of training, about the inhumane decision to force a father to send his children on a potentially deadly mission.

"I was right!" Omaha raises a fist in victory. "This is the laboratory, and you are the result of being educated by Maverick and Iceman. It's not genetic, but it's pretty close."

Jake lets out an amused chuckle. If they knew. Instead, Halo makes an irritated growl and slaps him on the head.

"Will you stop it with your conspiracy theories? They have shared something important with us. Show some respect." she looks at Jake seriously. "This means that you reconciled or something like that. So, should we start calling you Mitchell?"

Jake feels himself blushing at Halo's quick generosity. He shakes his head softly.

"It would be too confusing right now. Jake is fine at the moment. My family and I... are," he glances briefly at Bradley, "working out stuff. Rebuilding bridges."

She nods, understanding.

"That's hard, but I'm glad you had the opportunity."

"I guess seeing the face of death puts things in perspective, huh?" Natasha understands.

"So true," Bradley confirms.

But as she listens to her friend, she realizes she can't imagine it. She thought Maverick and Rooster had fallen, and the pain was paralyzing. They were just her commander and her friend, and she didn't know what to do or how to look forward. What must the two of them have felt, thinking that they had lost their father? She told Bradley to leave Maverick behind, for heaven's sake. Then Hangman, helpless on the Roosevelt deck, had to listen to her saying, "Impact on Dagger Two." Natasha doesn't remember how she got back to the ship. Only the conditioned reflexes from her training allowed her to navigate, like a zombie, the absurdity that the world had become in just a minute.

That's what she felt, the subordinate, the friend.

No wonder they spend their time sequestered during the return trip.

"Well, I think you can go down to the patio now."

"Wait a minute!" Bob stops them. "Why did you say that Jake and Samantha Kazansky were twins?"

"Because we were born on the same day, just eight hundred miles apart," explains Sam, crossing the room toward the group.

Like her mother, she wears a long, wide, raw cotton dress with Lakota motif embroidery on the neck and sleeves. Her dark hair falls in soft curls above her generous bust.

Yale gasps, seeing her so close. That is precisely what happened to him during the funeral.

Sam gets between Jake and Brad and puts an arm around each of her brothers. Look at his c'iyé.

"I guess the big reveal has already happened?"

"Yeah, " Bradley nods.

She gives them a calculating look.

"Just for your information, we have closed-circuit security. There is a camera in front of you." She moves her head upward, vaguely indicating one of the partitions in the room's ceiling. "So, tonight, we will eat popcorn and enjoy your faces when you find out everything."

Her smile turns fierce, like her mother's when she warned Fritz that he better control Admiral Kazansky's access to his famous whiskey.

Yale feels his knees go weak. He definitely needs his WSO's whiskey because he's screwed. He remembers Sean "Knife" Kazansky's murderous looks at those who looked at his sister at Commander Metcalf's funeral. And now Rooster and Hangman will join him in guarding her?

Sam takes her brothers by the hand.

"Let's go," and she walks towards the kitchen door.

The group follows without questioning her authority.

"Does that mean there are no more surprises?" asks Maria Celeste, uncertain.

Hangman turns to smile at her and winks in amusement.

"With this family? You never know."

 

STORY INDEX: http://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/the-lies-we-told-each-other-4-roots.html