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The Hanged Man
Upright: sacrifice, a change in perspective, the bigger picture
Feeling trapped, uncertain, and a lack of direction
Reversed: selfishness, stubbornness, martyrdom, yearning
Feeling impulsive, detached, and stagnant
Though they may bring a sense of comfort, take care not to fall back on old patterns.
Shift your perspective and wait for better things to come.
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From the moment Jake realized what this mission was likely to be, he'd felt the weight of the proverbial anvil looming over his head. You didn't bring the best pilots to graduate from TOPGUN together, give them an instructor whose feats are the literal stuff of legend, and send them off on a routine mission that any fresh graduate could accomplish. Life didn't work like that.
Jake was fine with it, though. Worst case scenario, he'd go out in a blaze of glory, and best case scenario, he'd get a free tab for weeks. (Jake had always been a "worst case scenario" first kind of guy.)
Except then Bradley walked into the fucking Hard Deck with the same stupid mustache and the same stupid Hawaiian print shirts that he always wore for civvies, and Jake's whole "ride or die" plan went out the window.
See, for context, contrary to what some might believe, Jake wasn't the one to break things off. No, Jake was all-in, four years out of TOPGUN and more than settled enough in his role to pursue personal relationships.
Maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe Jake had unintentionally made Bradley feel inadequate, teasing him about their four year age gap. He made a point to never bring up the fact that Bradley was nearly freshly out of TOPGUN--he wasn't that stupid--but maybe it was still too much.
Whatever the reason, no matter how many times Jake ruminated on it on the quiet nights, the ones where his Navy-issued bed felt especially empty, he could never quite figure out what made the course of events play out in the way it had.
He and Bradley met. They butted heads. A lot, basically whenever their paths crossed. Neither one admitted their attraction until one argument in particular led to a startled Javy waking them up by slamming their door shut again in the morning. (Side note: Javy would NOT let that go for weeks, and even then still brought it up on occasion. He only stopped once their relationship did.)
They continued in a heated on-again-off-again situation that transpired because of how infrequently they were on the same assignments. Their foreplay still consisted of jabs at each other, but it somehow worked for them. Until a shared carrier deployment that led to a hissed argument on deck in which Bradley had declared that he "can't do this anymore, Seresin, it's way too fucking much."
Jake didn't even know that they were in the air, but it seemed that he was in g-LOC and Bradley was already halfway home. Maybe he had been the whole time. Every time that Jake's heart had jackrabbited when they were in the same room, every schoolgirl whispered conversation he'd had with Javy, the only other soul who knew about them, every time he debated telling off the homophobes throwing around slurs in average conversations without having a clue about two of them already being in the room, Bradley already had one foot out the door.
So yeah, Jake was bitter. He loved, never stopped loving, but he was allowed to be fucking bitter at the same time. Bradshaw couldn't deny him that much.
If there was anything to learn, it was that when Jacob Seresin chose to be bitter, he certainly didn't do it halfway. So he swallowed down anything but his bravado from the moment that Trace declared, "Bradshaw!" He punched in Slow Ride and he looked up as he was bent over the pool table and he got up in Bradley's face and he lived up to his fucking callsign.
And when Bradley matched him tit for tat, when the anguish in his eyes turned to hellfire, that was Jake's victory more than anyone's. That meant that he was doing exactly what he should've been doing, reading straight from the "10 Ways to be the World's Biggest Asshole" manual and living it like his own personal Bible.
Because what the fuck else was he supposed to do? No matter how much he licked his wounds, they still oozed blood. Nothing was going to change that. But he could ignore them and put up his walls until someone who gave a shit noticed he was bleeding out.
So he dug in his claws, because he was the scorned one here, he wasn't the only one who should be bleeding.
Which made it all the sweeter when he found the picture of Maverick and Goose. Believe it or not, he and Bradley had never been the types to exchange sob stories or personal trauma between midnight trysts, so he truly had no idea of the history behind the men. It made the weird ass training exercise between the two--where Jake's throat had started to close up a bit, because he genuinely thought that Bradley would end up dead when he kept ignoring the hard deck--make much more sense.
He felt bad. He truly did. Whatever happened with Maverick and Bradley between when his dad died and now obviously turned his relationship with Maverick for the absolute worst.
But it was also something that he could use. Because the way things were going, Jake wasn't going to be Maverick's wingman for this mission. And that just wasn't acceptable, both because of his pride and because of who his only real competition was. Because of what might happen to him--what the worst case scenario was--if Jake wasn't the one helping to lead the pack.
And honestly, it kind of did tick him off when Bradley acted all high and mighty after their failed mission practice. After he hesitated, like he always did. So Jake put his worst foot forward.
"On this mission, a man flies like Maverick here or a man doesn't come back."
You have to come back. And right now, if you keep flying like you are, you won't.
And he and Bradley were back in the air, except instead of Bradley and Maverick testing the hard deck limits, it was the two of them. One giant, deadly game of chicken happening on solid ground right in the middle of the classroom.
"I can't be the only one who knows that Maverick flew with his old man? Or that Maverick was flying when your old man-"
Missile lock.
Jake knew it was coming. He knew Bradley would take the swing, knew he would keep swinging until someone dragged him away from Jake's bloody, unconscious body. He was betting on it, actually.
Call him a fucking masochist, but if Bradley really was going to be the one leading the mission, he needed something to push him to let go of everything that was holding him back. Because Jake wasn't lying when he said that Bradley wouldn't be coming back flying as he was.
So Bradley could call him a son of a bitch all he wanted--it was true, his mama was a nasty witch even when she wasn't on the bottle--but it didn't matter so long as it did what it needed to do. And if it didn't--
"You know I'm right."
He's not ready, don't fucking let him do this when he's not ready--
Maverick didn't listen, but Jake didn't expect him to.
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The beach day was a shock, honestly. Jake knew that the old man's version of teaching was unconventional and off-book in a truly admirable way, but beach volleyball?
Hey, it let him see Bradley with his shirt off for the first time in years, so Jake certainly wasn't going to complain.
Of course, everyone knew it was just the calm before the storm. And when they walked back into the classroom again to find Warlock at the podium giving them a mission update, Jake knew they were fucked.
But he sure did give his damnedest in the simulation. Even when both teams missed the target miserably and morale was the lowest it had been even before Maverick gave them the scope. Even when his heart dropped out of his ass when Javy went into g-LOC mid-sim. Even when Warlock informed them due to "personal reasons," Maverick would no longer be in charge of the training.
Javy heard from a friend of a friend that it was because the COMPACFLT's cancer had come back, and he and Maverick were old friends. Jake hoped he pulled through, he really did. Maverick seemed like a decent enough guy aside from whatever went down between him and Bradley.
Except then Maverick had shown up mid-training and completed the mission as directed. And Jake's admiration for the old man--because holy shit, to fly that mission successfully was insane, but to fly it without a wingman was fucking medal-worthy--was tinged with thoughts of, "we're right back where we fucking started, and I'm not going to be the one on the chopping block".
He always knew it. But to accept the fact that he wasn't going to be the one risking not returning home was something else altogether.
He did it, though. Told Maverick "Rooster is your man" and bowed out with dignified grace despite the turmoil settling into his stomach. Despite the thoughts of all of the words he never said because Bradley had to be so fucking selfish--
No. It was Jake's fault. It always had been. He was the selfish one, the stubborn one, the one who sacrificed too much of and yet never enough of himself all at the same time. The one who always left people out to dry because it was easier than acknowledging that he'd care if they never made it back.
He'd care. He's always care.
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It wasn't supposed to be Bradley. Bradley deserved so much more than he got in life. Dead dad, dead mom, fucked up relationship with Maverick and Jake and seemingly everyone he ever cared about. And he was so good. So sickeningly good.
Jake was never good. Jake was a rabid lion trapped in a dog crate, snapping and snarling at anyone that got close. Living up to everyone's worst expectations because then no one expected anything more.
He tried being more. With Bradley, he really did. But it didn't matter. Because Jacob Seresin was never and would never be meant for more.
So here he was, stuck on the flight deck as he waited for everyone else to suit up for the mission that they would be flying while he was stuck on standby twiddling his thumbs.
And all he could fucking say to Bradley before he went out with the possibility of never coming back was "Give 'em hell."
Fucking "Give 'em hell."
Not "come back," not "don't you fucking dare die," not "I'm sorry for all the problems I've caused you over the years because of my massive ego".
If Bradley survived this shit, Jake owed him a full five-course meal and the best head he'd ever given in his life. That was, if Bradley would let him. He hoped that he would.
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Jake knew what would happen. From the moment that it came over the comms that Maverick's jet had gone down, he knew it was only a matter of time before Bradley ignored direct orders and went back for him.
It had been going so well. When Bradley snapped out of his own head, when Jake heard over the comms that he was going too fast for Payback to keep up and even giving the other pilot orders, he wanted to pump his fist in the air. Because that was the Bradley Bradshaw that he knew the man was capable of being.
And then Bradley was out of flares, and Jake barely had a second to react to that information before his ex was croaking out, "Maverick, no-", over the comms and something went boom.
So he knew. When Phoenix broke the news that Dagger 1 was hit, that Maverick was down, that no one saw a chute, he knew that Bradley would go back. But that still didn't prepare him for the moment when he heard that Dagger 2 had gone down too.
He pounded on his dash, knowing already that it wouldn't do any good.
That was supposed to fucking be him.
Just in case, clinging on to that faint glimmer of hope, he radioed in to ask, "Dagger spare request permission to launch and fly air cover."
He knew he would get a refusal. But at least at Bradley's funeral, he could say he had tried. For once in his miserable life, he had tried.
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"Sir, we're receiving a signal from Rooster's ESAT…..he's supersonic."
"…..F-14 Tomcat is airborne and on course for our position….."
"He's still alive."
At least when he was court-martialed, he could genuinely say that he blacked out for a moment in time. Because one second, Jake was sitting in his jet on the flight deck, coming to terms with the fact that Bradley was gone, and the next he was up in the air enroute to the direction they'd left in at speeds that nearly rivaled the impossible ones of the mission itself.
It was a nerve-wracking several minutes before a crackling came over the comms, interrupting Cyclone's frenzied demands for Jake to return to the flight deck. And Jake could honestly say that he'd never been so thrilled to hear Maverick's voice informing the carrier that they had taken down two bandits and were inbound for their location.
It was another bout of nerves as Jake saw them incoming from below him, another bandit hot on their tail, with no efforts from Maverick or Rooster to take down the last jet the way that they had the other two.
He couldn't hear everything over their janky comms, but he could hear enough.
"Eject…..not working…..can't shake him….."
Jake probably did comparable damage to his jet that Maverick had gotten his ass chewed over in their training exercise as he shot past them, swung around, and got behind the bandit. Just in time, too, for the bandit's missile to get primed as Jake opened fire and blew the asshole to bits.
He wouldn't brag about it too much. Just a little bit. Just enough.
But in that moment, he couldn't resist a quip of, "I am good, Rooster. I'm very good," as he locked eyes with a dead man and felt hope swell in his chest for the first time in years.
And yeah, it was probably a bit risky to refuse Bradley's outstretched hand in favor of a clamped hand of Jake's own circling his neck and pulling him in for a searing kiss. Right there on the flight deck. Seconds away from being court-martialed. Right in front of their entire squad, all of whom were in stunned silence apart from a whooping Javy. Right in front of Bradley's… whatever the fuck Maverick was to him.
But it was also so fucking worth it.
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The Hanged Man
Upright: a change in perspective, waiting for the right time, finding what truly matters
Reversed: waiting is over, emerging with a new understanding, balance
If you have been feeling stagnant, the time to embrace change has come. Welcome it with open arms and let go of old beliefs that have been holding you back. Welcome love back in.
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