Only the Good Die Young

***

"The important thing is this: to be ready at any moment to sacrifice what you are for what you could become."

Charles Dickens

***

The number five has been a theme all of Davey Thomas's life.

He's the fifth generation of his family born on the Seresin Ranch. Five generations before, they were nothing but poor bean farmers and on the verge of losing even that as the Seresins expanded. Instead of starving, the Seresins had employed Roman tactics, striking a deal with the Thomas family to allow them to keep working their land independently as long as it was part of the Seresin ranch. 

And it stayed that way until Davey married Mary Seresin decades later.

He was the youngest of five, but two of them died before he was born so his family was five people. He was a gentle child, couldn't stomach branding season, but he was good at nursing the orphans, and he could tame pretty much anything.

He met Mary Seresin for the first time when he was five years old, but it took another five years before they started getting along and another five before he realized he was going to marry her when they were both fifteen. He's pretty sure he was in love with her from the get-go, but god forbid Mary ever do anything the easy way.

They get married at 17, and he takes her name because he knows how important it is to her, and they have their first child at 18, and they're off. At twenty, Davey realizes they need a more stable income to protect the ranch, and he joins the Navy. 

Five years later, at twenty-five, he's Lieutenant Davey Seresin, callsign Have Mercy, and a fighter pilot, and he has his fifth child on the way.

Under Mary's iron fist, the ranch is booming, and he buys a small Cessna to help with monitoring the herd and to teach his kids not to worry about keeping their feet on the ground. 

Only two of them really take to it. His oldest, Lily, who might as well be a clone of her mother, and his youngest, Jake, who wants to fly before he can reach the pedals.

He wants to ride before he can reach the stirrups, too, always so goddamn ready to try anything, no matter how many people are trying to keep him out of trouble.

He might be the one, Mary confides, late at night when she feels comfortable admitting weakness and fear. Maybe Jake will be the one who makes it past forty. God knows nothing's been able to kill the kid so far, and there have been enough close calls that they're both prematurely grey in places. 

Davey's always been the optimist of the two of them but can't for the life of him understand why a woman like Mary would ever have to contend with the short, pointless life it seems like fate wants her to have.

Dying young may be a punishment for something, for someone, but if whoever it was was hoping the Seresins would go out quietly, they're in the midst of a rude awakening.

Because none of them are going to.

Who just goes quietly to their grave?

Davey doesn't have a single person in his life that would do that, though he's sure he's met a few in passing. 

His cousin in California was not so quietly worried about Davey marrying into the family and was quietly uninvited from the ceremony. 

Davey hasn't spoken to her since. 

Even if he dies tomorrow, the time he's had with Mary and their children was worth it, although Lily and Jake are well on their way to giving him a heart attack all on their own.

And maybe he got lulled into a false sense of security, but they're supposed to die by forty, not at fourteen.

But here he is, burying his barely teenage daughter because she saw someone being hurt and did the right thing, and the first, and only, time in his life Davey Seresin hits someone in anger, in rage really, is when he catches up to that high school coach.

The Sheriff and his lot and no one that came with them to hunt him down say a word, and the body is done and buried long before it's cold.

His youngest is only five, and Davey just buried his firstborn. 

And then he buried the fucker that killed her.

He doesn't blame the running back; it's not even hard to look at him. That poor kid has a long road ahead of him and didn't ask for any of it. 

All Davey sees when he looks at him is pride in his daughter, so all he says is 'you better do something worthwhile with your life' and the boy swears up and down that he will.

Davey believes him.

But there's still a gaping chasm in his chest that's never going to be filled again.

The only other light in this dark time is the new family that's just arrived at the ranch.

The Machados.

Amara Machado is an Amazon, the kind of woman who can intimidate people just by existing. She doesn't flinch, and Mary adores her instantly. 

Kindred spirits and all.

It takes very little effort to assimilate them into the ranch, and one morning, he wakes up and realizes he can't see Jake without Javy, and he starts to worry a little bit less about his youngest, most reckless child.

Which is good, because barely a month later, he gets orders for his next deployment.

He's thirty-five when he meets Thomas Kazansky in the great frozen north. Still mourning Lily, but he thinks he always will, the blond hotshot with the stick somewhere uncomfortable reminds him in a startling way of Mary, dogged, determined, and terribly too good for the likes of the lazy majority.

Kazansky, like Mary, is good at what he does and won't let anyone treat him otherwise.

He also absolutely cannot, to Davey's endless amusement, handle the cold, and by the end of their first week together, he's wearing Amara's hand-knit socks and gloves and an old scarf one of the ranch hands made Davey.

And he's still shivering!

Still, Davey likes him, and it's endlessly amusing to listen to his stories about Pete Mitchell. It only takes Davey, a couple, to realize they're a couple, or they should be, but they're both stubborn.

But there's hope on the horizon. Kazansky seems to at least realize they're where they are because they're stubborn, which means they'll figure their shit out eventually, and then everyone that knows them can relax for a little while.

Slider looks like he'd throw himself overboard to speed things along if he thought it would work.

Still, Davey is mostly pleased with life during his thirty-fifth year. Mary's talking about more kids because, apparently, even Jake has calmed down with Javy around.

She'd struck another deal with a small neighboring ranch, so they were expanding again.

Brian had taken first place in his first nationally ranked rodeo.

Michael and Jessie had just started training with their respective departments. Two of his babies are going to carry badges, and that's terrifying.

Jordan and Peter were doing well in school.

Jake was running amuck like all kids his age should.

He makes plans with Tom to come visit the ranch and show the city boy what the wilds of Texas are like.

He's willing to put money down that Tom won't be alone when he does.

It takes five enemy fighters to bring Davey Seresin down five weeks later, five months short of his thirty-sixth birthday.

***

Jake takes after his father.

Really, he takes after his mother, too, the driven woman who withstood the corporations trying to take over the Texas cattle business; he gets his obsessive desire to be the best from her.

But most of what he is, he gets from the father he has limited memories of, who died a few days short of Jake's sixth birthday.

The drive to fly, which has driven all of Jake's professional life, is all from his father. 

Mary Seresin, terrified of heights, couldn't stomach being in a plane.

And he thinks about him now as he turns to meet them.

Five Russian SU-52s. Russia's pride and joy are barely notable against what Jake flies but still dangerous.

Five to one.

It took five Russian fighters to take his father down over the Arctic, and the rage that bubbles up in Jake is something he hasn't experienced before.

He can't even see them yet, but he knows they're there. 

They're coming.

The radios are blowing up.

First, they're trying to figure out what the fuck Jake's doing.

Then they're trying to call out a distance and direction while getting Mav and Rooster out of the fucking way, get that plane on the goddamn tarmac, Mitchell! And he does, slamming down slightly to the side, leaving just enough room for Javy and the Vigilantes to taxi by.

But it still takes time, and Jake just spotted the incoming Russian fighters.

He stays low over the water until he can come up right below them.

His first missile is a direct hit and scatters the other four across the sky.

His second goes wide, and then he's only got two left.

But the Russians are predictable, and Jake is not, so when they try to flank him, he turns to meet them head-on instead, and their game of chicken is visible from the deck of the Carl Vinson as Coyote, Vixen, Fox, Harvard, and Yale, and Halo finally manage to launch.

***

Natasha Trace has always prided herself on her practicality. 

It keeps her calm in even the most impossible situations and lets her have a clear head and clear conscience always. 

The only person who's ever made her lose her temper for no good reason is Jake Seresin.

And it's not because there was a brief period where she thought they'd end up together; she realized real quick that she had too much to prove, and he didn't care about proving anything, and that was not compatible.

Jake was already solid and settled, even though he never let anyone see why, where, or who, and Natasha wanted to be the one someone settled down for.

There was a small part of her that also knew she'd drive herself into the grave trying to outdo him career-wise, and no relationship would survive that.

For a little while, Bradley had seemed like the obvious choice. They clicked on a level neither of them had ever experienced before, a connection that still runs strong to this day.

Natasha had never had someone that knew her down to her core. It took her years to learn herself that deeply, but Bradley had just seemed to understand her, and it had been so nice to not worry, not to question. 

They'd both thought that was it.

And for a few months, it had been.

Until it had exploded in their faces rather spectacularly.

To this day, Natasha still feels guilty about Jake being blamed.

She'd believed it for half a second when they were all still falling, but Bradley never had, and their fight over it took a long time for both of them to get pasted. 

Back to the guilt, she still feels it, less when Jake's being an asshole, but she never actually stopped to think about who it actually was that reported her and Bradley to their instructors.

There's more than a good chance it was Javy. Bradley told her about Jake and the bar, and the moment he decided to be an asshole because regardless of how much she loved him at that moment, and they were stupidly convinced they were the greatest romance of all time then, he was an absolute asshole to Jake, and she told him so.

Back to her original point, Jake is the only person who's ever made her honestly lose her temper.

He's good. He's got an attitude, more pride than brains, and the next time he brings out the Texas accent, she's going to smack him silly because it makes her go a bit gooey on the inside, and she thinks he knows, and that can't stand.

What's worse is that he knows he's good. 

If it was just that, she could hate him, and they'd be done, and she wouldn't have to waste time thinking about it.

But Natasha sees the one thing she thinks everyone else misses, aside from Javy, of course, that Jake isn't a natural in the cockpit.

She knows aviators that would swear up and down that Jake was born to fly, but she knows better.

Like recognizes like and all. 

He's not a natural. He works his ass off just like Natasha to look like a natural.

Bradley's a natural. Not surprising, given his lineage. 

Natasha still hates a bit just for that, but she told him, and he didn't take it personally, so they're good on that front.

But secretly, she also shares Jake's opinion that Bradley plays it too safe, too cautious, too slow.

Not that she can ever say that to Bradley.

Jake's got that covered.

Thank god.

Natasha can stick to the supportive best friend and pray that one day Bradley will listen to Jake.

Thank god.

He does.

The moment he catches up, she knows they'll be okay.

They've got time. They've got years.

And then the alarms blare, and now she's watching Jake play chicken with two Russian fighters. 

Jake.

Alone against five.

It took five enemy fighters to bring down Davey Seresin.

Callsign Have Mercy.

Jesus Christ.

Natasha wants to cry, but she won't let herself.

Set aside the fact that every man around would lose all respect for her. 

Jake would never, ever forgive her for crying over him.

But she's very, very close.

She hasn't cried since she was a teenager, and Billy Myers ditched her at prom for the head cheerleader.

The asshole.

Coyote is in the air, then Harvard and Yale, then Halo, then a couple of Vigilantes she doesn't know, and Cole Hauser is shoving his way into command and telling Cyclone and Kazansky to get the fuck out of the way and what were they thinking not having backup planned and they all spend a second yelling at each other before realizing they all agree on what's happening and launching every aircraft they can.

Men are idiots, Natasha thinks, as Coyote, desperate, tells Jake not to follow them. Who the hell is he talking about??

Men are idiots. She thinks over and over as Jake doesn't waver, strong and true, and headed for a head-on collision with two Russian fighters.

Natasha's nerves don't settle until Vixen's voice rings out over the radio:

"Hello, Darling, I'm here to save your ass."

"What's it like to have your ex save your ass, Hangman?" Fox.

"It's alright; I dumped him."

"Damn straight you did, sweetheart." Jake. "I was never good enough for you."

"How sweet of you to notice. Excuse me while I blow these fuckers out of the sky for trying to hurt you."

And then Vixen becomes the first female American Aviator with an air-to-air kill. 

Three left.

Halo and Vixen on the tail of another Russian fighter, desperately diving to get clear, but they follow him down, and Jake's voice comes clear and cold over the radio.

"Run him down."

And they do.

Following the Russian fighter as he plunges towards the ocean to get away.

Halo's always had an edge Natasha can't match. 

She admires the other woman. Always so chill and relaxed until a switch flips, and she's gutting you in an alley before you realize what's happening.

Vixen, apparently, belongs in the same category.

They run the Russian fighter all the way into the water, where he shatters into a thousand pieces. 

It won't officially count as a kill, but everyone in the Navy will know.

Natasha may have flown the mission, but she got the bronze today, and she'll be the first to put Vixen and Halo on the pedestal before her.

Natasha knows her strengths.

She's sharp, on point, has stamina until the day runs out, but she's not vicious.

Halo and Vixen are vicious. 

***

Like Jake's daughter. 

"I'm embarrassed for you." Lily Grace tells Mav the first time they meet. 

Cyclone couldn't look more thrilled.

***

Three Russian fighters left, and Harvard is staring down the barrel of a gun.

In the backseat, Yale is reeling out numbers.

How many enemy are left.

What direction they are.

How close they are.

How fast they're closing. 

He was supposed to be a lawyer.

His father is the chief prosecutor for the state of Massachusetts. 

He didn't even have to try to get accepted to Harvard.

But his stubborn ass decided he wanted to join the Navy instead.

Flying sounded like fun.

If he could time travel, he'd go back and tell his younger self that he was a fucking idiot.

Flying is not fun.

Flying is terrifying. 

There are two Russian fighters on his tail, and Hangman is directly in front of him and telling him to stay steady, stay on course.

Harvard and Hangman are going to have a mid-air collision if he stays on his current course, and Harvard doesn't want that.

Yale really doesn't want that.

He has life plans for the next few years, and god forbid Harvard be the one who ruins those for him. 

But Hangman is saying stay on course, don't deviate, even as he closes in, directly in front of Harvard. 

There are two Russian fighters on his tale, and it's taking everything Harvard has to prevent them from getting a lock.

Hangman is on his nose, another game of chicken, except Harvard, doesn't want to play.

"Hold. Hold steady, Harvard."

"Holding, Hangman."

"Stay on course."

"Holding, Hangman."

"Steady."

"Holding."

"Steady.'

"Holding…Jesus…Hang-"

"Break right!"

And he's away, and Hangman is firing, and another Russian fighter shatters into a thousand burning pieces. 

***

There are two Russian fighters left.

Vixen tempts one into Jake's range and reminds everyone where she got her callsign.

And then there's one, and he decides a kamikaze charge is the way to go.

He's headed straight toward the Carl Vinson when they realize what's happening. 

Coyote and the others give chase immediately, but they're too far behind to catch up. Not without their planes flying apart.

The crew of the Carl Vinson does what they can as the Russian fighter closes in, but he's too close for the deck guns, and they can't clear the aircraft, so they're going to lose something.

But here's the thing.

Pilots are trained to deal with emergencies.

Including crashes.

And Russian pilots are no different.

This Russian pilot is committed; he's going to go out in a blaze of glory and honor, taking out an American carrier.

He's trained to avoid obstacles and follow emergency procedures.

He's trained to realize going home without bringing down one American fighter means death.

But all pilots are trained to do one thing.

Avoid mid-air collisions.

So, when the American fighter suddenly flies in front of him, mere hundreds of feet from the deck of the carrier, he can't help but pull back on the cyclic and initiate a climb. 

The climb is what kills him.

It takes him just high enough to fly over the deck of the carrier while he tries to regain control of his aircraft, but it's not enough to stop him from plunging into the ocean on the other side.

***

Jake is going to have to answer to Javy and the US Navy for that stupid suicide charge.

But it works out, so he figures he won't get into too much trouble.

***

Bradley and Mav look like they went seven rounds with McGregor and lost, obviously. 

Mav has a concussion, broken ribs, and possibly a pierced lung.

Bradley doesn't have a concussion, but it's likely he's got a few fractures in his ribs, leg, and arm. 

Their victory celebration is cut short when the alarm blares, and they stay put in the F-14 to avoid getting in the way as the deck crews launch Coyote and the others as fast as humanly possible.

After that, no amount of begging gets them out of medical, and they listen to most of the fight over the radio with the rest of the medical staff.

When they bring in Jake and the others, Bradley tries and fails to get out of bed.

Jake laughs at him, which Bradley takes as a good sign, even though Jake looks like he's going to keel over in exhaustion at any second.

The debrief for this mess is going to be interesting.

Bradley wants to hold him, but Halo and Coyote seem to have dibs, and Jake gets dragged into a group hug with them, and Harvard and Yale, and the Vigilantes that leaves them all laughing hysterically.

Cole Hauser forces his way into medical before they can really start to celebrate, and even Cyclone and Iceman can't stop him.

He looks so, so sad, and Bradley should have realized.

"I'm so sorry, Jake. Jordan is dead."

~tbc~