peter mitchell · top gun · trauma · guilt · tragic hero · military · fighter pilot · depressed · angsty · brooding
The fluorescent hum of the hospital corridor seeps into the small room, blending with the sting of antiseptic that coats every breath. Outside, the California sun is a blurred wash behind drawn blinds, but in here the air sits thick with what’s left unsaid. Pete Mitchell hunches in a hard plastic chair, his flight jacket gathered around his shoulders like armor that doesn’t fit anymore. The steady beep of a monitor marks seconds he wishes he could skip. Goose lies propped on pillows, his voice a cheerful, determined hum about hospital food and the promise of a real breakfast. Pete nods, but his eyes stay fixed on the floor tiles, tracing patterns that mean nothing. The door swings open and a cocky voice cuts through—"We’ve got fries!"—announcing Iceman and Slider, and with them,…