A/N: The beginning is from the movie yes, however the rest of it stems off from that moment.

"We're in his jet-wash!" Goose shouted.

"Ho!" Maverick cried out, fighting to maintain control. "Holy shit!"

"This is not good! Shit-we've got to flame out Mav! Engine one is out...engine two is out!"

"Goose, I'm losing control, I'm losing control! I-I can't control it! It won't recover! Shit!"

"We're out of control Mav! This is not good, this is not good!"

"Mayday, mayday! Mav's in trouble. He's in a flat spin, he's heading out to sea!" reported Iceman, watching the unpredictable scene unfolding before him.

"Altitude 8000! 7000! 6-we're at 6000!" Maverick assessed, watching the altitude gauge dropping quickly. His eyes widened as he realized that they needed to eject now.

"A-ah!" grunted Goose from the rear, his helmet clad head pressed against the glass from the force of the fall.

"I can't reach the ejection handle! Goose, you'll have to pull it yourself! I can't reach the ejection handle! Eject!" Maverick ordered, fighting hysteria.

"Ah! I'm trying, I'm trying!" Goose yelled back, trying as hard as he could to reach up for the handle.

"Eject! Eject! Eject!"

Goose grunted again, this time grabbing hold of the handle and pulling it successfully.

"Watch the canopy!" warned Maverick, just as the canopy burst off the Tomcat in a shower of sparks.

What happened next would forever be ingrained in Maverick's mind like a slow-motion, horror movie. Another unforeseen accident occurred...the canopy didn't shoot straight up and back as far as it should have, causing Goose's head to connect with the side of it with a sickening crack. It was as if Goose wasn't even wearing a helmet in the first place.

"Goose!" Maverick screamed, watching as his best friend's body dropped to the ocean surface like a heavy weight, "Goose!"

Maverick stared at his hands, trying to maintain a placid manner around Goose's wife and young son. He turned in his seat to look at her, "I'm so sorry, Carol. I don't know what happened up there...it all went to hell, so fast..." he trailed off.

Carol dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes with a handkerchief before asking, "How long do you think he'll be-" she bit back a sob.

Maverick looked away, whispering, "Days...weeks...maybe months. No one ever knows for sure-" he stopped and shook his head, "I just don't know."

Carol nodded mutely, tears streaming down her pink-tinged cheeks. She wound her finger tightly around the white satin cloth in her trembling hands. Glancing over at her young son before turning back to Maverick, she asked, "Can we see him now?"

Not trusting his own voice, Maverick nodded solemnly. Carol stood up quickly before brushing a strand of blond hair off her forehead. She motioned for Scott, their son, to follow suit. The child grabbed hold of her hand and followed her out of the hall and into the sick bay, where his father lay in a comatose state in a single cot.

"Oh, Goose..." murmured Carol, running a slender hand through the man's light brown hair. He didn't stir or make a joke, or call her honey; Carol could no longer hold back the tears. Scott watched quietly as his distraught mother sobbed openly, wrapping her arms as best she could around her unconscious husband.

Long days full of crying and waiting, turned into months of dying prayers and failing attempts for a hopeful recovery. Carol constantly grabbed Goose's limp hand within hers, clutching it tightly as she bounced it up and down. She blubbered incoherently, sweet nothings that grazed Goose's ear, uncertain of whether or not he could hear them.

Scott watched on with a quiet, solemn look. The young child hardly spoke before his father's accident, only becoming animated when the man included him in his silly jokes and games. Without Goose to make him giggle and sing, Scott was silent.

With the hope of a successful recovery becoming slimmer and slimmer with each passing day, Carol and Scott's visits lessened. It was on a Thursday, the day when Carol and Scott took a day off and Maverick visited, when Goose's fingers began drumming against the sheets. The slender limbs jerked and twitched sporadically, brushing against the resting arm of Maverick.

Mav jerked in surprise, his eyes wide and chest heaving with excitement. He pushed his chair back quickly and leaned over the bed, studying the face of his R.I.O. "Goose?" he called out. His eyes darted back and forth over the closed, but fluttering, eyelids of the man underneath him. Maverick tentatively placed a hand on Goose's shoulder, and jostled him ever so gently. "Goose? Ya there? Tell me ya there, man, come on. Come on, Goose, give me something."

Maverick caught the whites of Goose's eyes as his eyelids continued fluttering open and closed. A low, raspy groan emitted from Goose's slightly parted lips. His tongue darted out in a failed attempt to wet his dry, and cracked, lips.

"Come on, Goose, come on!" Maverick urged, a small smile taking shape on his face. His hand quickly darted out towards the table next to him, and grabbed a plastic cup full of water. He turned and rummaged around his discarded lunch tray for a straw. All the while, he murmured encouragement to the wakening man.

"Here, take a sip," he placed the straw on Goose's lips, tickling the flesh with the white plastic in an attempt to get Goose to drink. "That's right," Maverick nearly laughed, as he adjusted the cup in his hand and the straw in Goose's mouth. "Take a nice, big sip. That's right..."

Goose suckled the water like an infant, his eyes remaining closed. When he released the straw from his lips, he opened them slowly and gasped in a hoarse voice, "Mav?"

Maverick nearly slammed the cup of water down on the table, in an effort to remain facing Goose. "I'm here; How you feelin'? Huh? Do you need anything?"

Goose's eyes slid shut slowly, and he swallowed thickly. "Wha...Wha-where...am...I...?" His question came out in long, slow pants.

"Hospital." Maverick answered simply, feeling no need to beat around the bush. "You're going to be fine," he said quickly at the bemused expression from Goose. "I'm going to grab a Doc, quick. Alright?" Maverick pulled away and made his way towards the door. He stopped abruptly and turned around on his heel. "Stay awake, okay Goose? You need to keep your eyes open for me. I'll be back A.S.A.P."

Without waiting for a response, Maverick nearly fled the room. Goose, whose head had been slightly raised from the pillow, plopped it back down with a soft moan. Not a moment later, Mav reappeared with a ruffled doctor.

The doctor strode over to Goose's bedside and unpleasantly peeled back each eyelid and peered into them, flashing a bright pen light into each one. Goose jerked back, eliciting a startled sound from the doctor and a sharp gasp from Goose.

"Watch it!" Maverick snapped, stepping forward to make sure Goose was alright. He patted his friend on the shoulder gingerly, before letting his hand linger there. "When do you think these bandages can come off?"

Goose and the doctor shared a nearly comical look of confusion, before Goose settled for a grim and exhausted expression and the doctor an annoyed one. The elderly man motioned Maverick to the opposite side of the room.

"Mr. Mitchell, I suggest you refrain from discussing traumatic manners in front of the patient." the older man snapped.

Maverick furrowed his eyebrows in anger, and took a menacing step forward. "Maverick. Everyone calls me Maverick, for starters. Secondly, Dr...." he made a show of narrowing his eyes and searching the man's lapels for his name tag,"Miles. This man has been through a traumatic experience, and discussing the removal of bandages for his recovery is far from it."

Goose watched through partly lidded eyes, his cloudy mind running in and out of consciousness. He moaned softly, lifting a heavy arm with great effort in order to brush an oxygen mask on his face. He was further confused when he tried racking his foggy mind for the time when Maverick stuck the mask on his face in the first place.

"Alright, sir," Dr. Miles refrained from calling Maverick by his call sign, "I believe you should leave the room, and contact this man's family. They should be here."

Maverick made to argue, but realized that the old man was right. He nodded curtly and brushed past him, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be right back Goose, hang in there!"

Goose made a sound, muffled by the oxygen mask, including the various sounds of pumping and beeping machinery he was hooked to. He turned his heavily bandaged head to face Miles, who was watching him intently.

The wounded man pulled the oxygen mask from his face carefully, his movement slow and pathetic."Wha's...whas up...D-doc?" he gasped slowly, a ghostly smile on his thin face, before he released his weak hold on the mask and let it slip back onto his face. His hair was plastered down with sweat from the effort, but he thought it was worth it.

Goose still has it. His eyes fluttered shut as he succumbed to the overwhelming darkness, his head tilted to the side in a restful position, with the goofy, half-a-smile plastered on his pale face.

End.

I'm very sorry to Serenity74, but I cannot continue this story.