They Call Me the Coroner | Top Gun: Maverick

Life Is Short. Death Is Sure.

I never thought confessing this would be so...

Hard.

I always thought that it would be liberating, freeing me from all my horrible feeling. But it only makes me realize it more.

"I'm going to tell you this. I can't keep it in any longer. If I tell you you have to promise never to tell a soul about it, because revealing this would get me in big trouble. I can't lie to you. My brain is going to bust."

"I won't tell." He smirks sympatheticly. "And I think it's already started...your brain, I mean."

"Thank you for that." I draw my lips in a line and eye him.

"I'm sorry." He takes my hands and I sit cross-legged on the couch to face him. "I'm listening."

Hangman and Payback left the room a while ago and now it's just the two of us. They probably had enough of this woman crying.

I swallow hard. "Okay....I don't really know where to start."

He just gives a half grin, rubbing my hands with his thumbs. "What about explaining who the heck this Marty guy is?"

I sigh and start listing off things from Marty's file like a fact book. "Lieutenant Jeremy Grahm. Call sign 'Marty.' He was blond. 33 years old. His widow is Harriet Grahm and he had two daughters before he was killed. Kaylie and Greta. Kaylie just just got into kindergarten when he was killed and Greta just got her first tooth." My tears are gone and what's left is bitter resentment for my choices. "He loved to sing and gosh he had a voice like an angel. The prettiest blue eyes you ever saw. Probably the best darn pilot I ever flew with."

"He was...killed." Rooster affirms.

"By me."

He stops caressing my hands and his eyes rise. His head still points down and his jaw is slightly agape.

And here's to coming in full terms with letting someone hear your secret. He has the upmost liberty to view me as the freak I am.

But he won't. At least, I trust him not to. I'm safe with him.

"I didn't want to." I pull my hands out of his and push my eyeballs. Maybe if I push hard enough I won't be able to see his frown and confusion.

But when I open my eyes, he's not frowning. He takes my hands again and pleads with those green irises. Tell me.

"As an instructor, I was supposed to be going over some basic maneuvers with Marty and T-Shirt. A regular, routine day. But Jasper...that's the guy who gives me my missions, he gave a certain Admiral, orders to pass on to me. I was to take out Gregory Cotton...T-Shirt."

"Why?" He asks.

"To put it simply, I'm basically a hired killer for the government used to take out any enemy who's snuck into the system and poses a threat to America." My voice is cruel and low. Somehow I feel that by threatening me with a dishonorable discharge because I don't want to kill people...my government has betrayed me.

"Ah." He nods. "This would explain your...extremely unbelievable kill count. I mean...Mav only has three and he's been in service a lot longer than you."

"I got the order. I took Greg down. Marty...thought I was the one who posed a threat."

Rooster watches my face contort into disgust. His grip tightens on my hand.

"I tried to tell him about Greg, but he wouldn't listen. We went through a dogfight." I put my hand over my mouth, but Rooster didn't let go until his hand touches my face. He runs his fingers down my cheek.