ꔛ 𓈒 *🌊🖇˚ ᦃ ･ ﹆ ˚🛩️ ◞˚ₓ 🫀⁕˚彡

O N E :
'it's just a supercut of us'
── supercut : lorde
𝟶:𝟶𝟶 ──◍───── 𝟷:𝟹𝟶

❝ in my head, i play a supercut of us
all the magic we gave off
all the love we had and lost
and in my head
the visions never stop ❞

〖 🌊 ੈ✩‧₊🛩️ 〗

°。°。°。°。°。°。

Alexa felt the Hawaiian sun on her face as she walked down the tarmac with Gretzky beside her—her RIO, her best friend, and probably the closest thing she had to family out here. She'd never been good at letting people in; in fact, she'd perfected the art of pushing them away. Alexa 'Bolter' Michell was known for her intensity, her sharp tongue, and the fact that she wasn't there to make friends. Yet, despite all that, Gretzky had somehow slipped past her defenses.

They'd been flying together for nearly two years now, and in that time, Gretzky had proven he wasn't just another smartass RIO with a mouth that never quit. He was that, sure—but he was also loyal, always ready to throw himself into whatever mess Alexa dragged him into, and fiercely protective when it mattered. She'd told him things she hadn't shared with anyone, and he'd somehow managed to pull her out of her own head more times than she could count. She hated to admit it, but Gretzky was her anchor.

"Can you believe they're actually calling us back to Top Gun?" he asked, his voice thick with sarcasm as he nudged her with his elbow. "They must be scraping the bottom of the barrel. Probably need someone to come in and make the new guys feel better about themselves."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," she shot back, rolling her eyes but unable to keep a smirk off her face. "Maybe they just need someone to put you in your place. I've been meaning to do it for years."

Gretzky laughed, shaking his head. "Sure, Bolter, look at you. All scary and intimidating. You've probably scared off half the base by now. Maybe that's why they're bringing us back—you already ran through everyone here."

She shot him a look, half amused, half annoyed, but it didn't have the bite it might've had with someone else. With Gretzky, it was just their way of keeping things real. He was the only one who seemed to know how to get past her walls, usually with that insufferable grin and a smart remark. She might've thrown a punch at anyone else, but Gretzky? He'd earned his place by her side, and somehow, he'd stuck.

"Trust me, I'd pay good money to get a RIO who took things seriously for once," she muttered, though there was a teasing edge in her voice. She wouldn't trade him for anyone else.

"Tough luck, Bolter." He shoved his hands in his pockets, giving her a smug smile. "You're stuck with me, and anyway, who else is dumb enough to put up with you? I'm a rare find."

She let out a soft laugh despite herself. As much as he annoyed her, he wasn't wrong. There were few people who could keep up with her, who could handle her intensity and her rough edges. Gretzky might be loud, sarcastic, and completely insufferable, but he'd more than proven he had her back, no matter what. It mattered more than she'd ever let on.

But as they approached the hangar, her stomach twisted. She hadn't expected to be called back to Top Gun. She'd worked hard to bury that chapter, to lock away the memories and mistakes she'd left behind there. Walking back into it felt like opening a door to the past she'd spent years trying to outrun—a past filled with regrets, old friends she'd lost touch with, and a whole mess of ghosts she wasn't sure she was ready to face.

Gretzky must've noticed the change in her expression, because his usual grin softened. "Hey... you good, Bolter?" he asked, voice lower, less joking. It caught her off guard, the rare hint of sincerity in his tone.

"Just... got a lot on my mind," she mumbled, her voice almost too quiet, like she didn't even want him to hear.

"Yeah, okay," he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "I get it, touchy stuff. Just remember, whatever shit's waiting for you there, you've got me. I'll keep 'em in line for you." His smile was soft, sincere.

She glanced over, barely nodding, but it was there. Somehow, he always knew how to say the right thing, even if she'd never admit how much it meant to her. For now, she was just grateful she didn't have to face it alone.

They kept walking side by side, no more words needed between them.

. . . . . ╰──╮~ 🛩️ ~╭──╯ . . . . .

The heat was unmistakable as Alexa stepped off the tarmac and onto the familiar grounds of Miramar in San Diego. It was a place she hadn't planned on coming back to, a place loaded with memories, both good and bad. She hadn't even told her father she was returning, avoiding the difficult conversation altogether. This was her past, something she'd walked away from years ago, and she hadn't wanted him to know she was back here, facing it all over again.

Standing beside her, Gretzky took it all in with his usual laid-back ease. "Well, well," he murmured, shading his eyes as he looked around. "Home sweet home, huh, Bolt? Feels like stepping into a time warp."

"Yeah, something like that." She could feel the weight of her history here, like every step she took was layered with memories she'd tried to leave behind. But as much as she wanted to brush off his comment, she could tell that Gretzky sensed her unease.

"Didn't tell your dad, did you?" he asked, a hint of knowing in his tone.

She shook her head. "Didn't see the point," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady, detached. But Gretzky saw through it, and maybe that's why he was the only person she could tolerate at times like this. He knew her better than anyone, especially how she dealt with her father.

Gretzky chuckled, trying to keep things light. "Gotta love that father-daughter bond of yours. Makes my dysfunctional family look like the Brady Bunch."

"Thanks, Gretzky," she said dryly, but his sarcastic humor was grounding, helping her keep her cool as they walked further into the base. She didn't want to let him see that part of her—the part that cared a little too much about what her dad might think, the part of her that still felt like a kid every time she set foot here.

"Hey, remember," Gretzky said, nudging her shoulder as if to break her out of her head. "You're Bolter, the one and only. No one messes with you. You got this."

She glanced over at him, his casual confidence almost infectious. Somehow, over the past two years, they'd become more than just a pilot and RIO team; they'd become friends. Real friends—the kind that didn't come easily to her. Gretzky was the only person who managed to get her to open up, who had somehow convinced her that maybe she didn't have to face everything alone. And he was right: she was Bolter, and she'd faced worse things than a trip back to Miramar.

. . . . . ╰──╮~ 🛩️ ~╭──╯ . . . . .

The Hard Deck was alive with noise and energy when Alexa and Gretzky stepped inside. The familiar smell of beer and saltwater hit her immediately, and the buzz of voices and laughter filled her ears, mixing with the low thrum of music coming from an old jukebox in the corner. Alexa's black boots thudded on the floor, her jean shorts and vintage Rolling Stones shirt fitting in just right with the bar's worn-in vibe. She felt that familiar thrill, the sense of belonging but also of standing out in just the right way.

Beside her, Gretzky looked effortlessly chill in his white tee and jeans, hands shoved casually in his pockets. He shot her his usual crooked grin, that look he wore that said he was completely at ease and probably about to get into some kind of trouble.

"Ready to show these rookies how it's done, Bolter?" he teased.

She gave him a look. "If they're smart, they'll stay out of the way."

He laughed, bumping her shoulder. "You say that, but we both know you love the attention."

Alexa just rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help the small smile that slipped out. Gretzky knew her too well for her own good. This bar, these people—they reminded her of who she was, the legacy she carried, and the thrill of stepping into it once again.

As she glanced around, her gaze landed on a familiar face leaning against the bar. "Phoenix!" Alexa shouted, unable to hide her grin.

Phoenix turned, her eyes lighting up as she spotted Alexa. She broke into a huge smile, pushing off the bar to wrap Alexa in a tight hug. "It's about damn time!" she said, laughing. "I missed you, girl."

"Missed you too," Alexa replied, squeezing her friend back. Phoenix was one of the few people Alexa had ever let all the way in. They'd been through enough together to know they had each other's backs, no questions asked. Phoenix pulled back, looking Alexa up and down, and grinned. "Same old Alexa," she teased. "Still rocking that vintage band tee look."

"What can I say?" Alexa shrugged. "It's a classic."

Just then, Alexa heard a familiar voice drawl out from across the room, loud enough to carry over the noise. "Well, well, if it isn't the famous Bolter."

She turned to see Hangman lounging back in a chair, feet propped up on an empty seat, a smirk plastered on his face. He raised a glass in her direction, his eyes practically daring her to come over.

Alexa scoffed, crossing her arms as she looked him over. "Nice to see that ego still hasn't deflated."

Hangman chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Can't deflate what's air-tight, sweetheart."

Gretzky, muttering just loud enough for Alexa to hear, added, "Air-tight and still somehow completely full of hot air."

Alexa snickered, but she couldn't help the rush of familiarity. Bickering with Hangman was practically a sport at this point. "Let me guess, Hangman, you're still out here scaring off the new recruits with that winning personality?"

"Only the ones who can't handle it," he shot back smoothly. "They've gotta learn what real competition looks like."

"Real competition?" Alexa mocked. "Guess I'm in the right place, then." She leaned in with a sly smile. "Hope you're ready to lose, Bagman."

Hangman's smirk widened. "That's 'Hangman' to you, Bolter."

Gretzky leaned closer to Alexa and muttered, "Pretty sure he just uses 'Hangman' as a reminder not to choke."

Hangman rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. Alexa had missed this—the teasing, the friendly rivalry, the push and pull that came with knowing each other so well.

As they moved over to grab a drink, Alexa caught sight of a few more unfamiliar faces nearby. A guy with a big, friendly grin was animatedly chatting with another pilot, who looked serious and a little intense. Phoenix noticed her looking and leaned in. "That's Fanboy," she nodded to the guy with the grin. "Always got a story to tell. And next to him? Payback. Bit of a hard-ass, but solid as they come."

Alexa nodded, taking them in. "And the quiet one over there?" She motioned toward a guy sipping his drink, seeming perfectly content to sit back and observe.

"Bob," Phoenix said, a fond smile on her face. "Doesn't look like much, but don't let him fool you—he's sharp."

Alexa sized them up, intrigued. She'd met plenty of pilots, but these guys had an energy she hadn't seen in a while. And sitting nearby was another familiar face—Coyote, one of the few people here she'd met before. He gave her a nod, that cool, collected look in his eyes, and Alexa returned it, remembering their last interaction. Coyote didn't say much, but he didn't need to—he had an intensity about him that spoke volumes.

"Feels like old times, doesn't it?" Phoenix said, nudging Alexa.

"Yeah," Alexa replied, a warmth spreading through her. "I think I could get used to this."

As she spoke, Alexa's gaze drifted over to Gretzky, who was watching Phoenix and Bob squaring off over a game of pool. Phoenix was lining up her shot, the sharp focus on her face contrasting with Bob's calm, calculated stance. They were both good, and it was the kind of quiet competition Alexa appreciated—skill without all the ego. But before she could lose herself in the scene, a loud, familiar voice rang out across the bar, cutting through the music and chatter.

"Bradshaw! Is that you?"

Her stomach twisted as the voice hit her, a mix of surprise and dread. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was—she'd recognize that voice anywhere. Alexa felt Gretzky's gaze shift, his brows raising as he glanced at her, the silent question in his eyes. Shit. She thought she was prepared for anything, but of all the people she'd expected to see here tonight, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw was at the bottom of the list.

Taking a steadying breath, she turned around, eyes narrowed slightly as they landed on Bradley. He was standing near the bar, looking like he hadn't aged a day, that same laid-back confidence radiating from him. The years between them felt like they vanished in an instant, but there was something else in his eyes—a look that was harder, more guarded. She hadn't seen him since... well, since things had gone south between them. Too much left unsaid, too many moments of silence when words should've bridged the gap.

Gretzky muttered under his breath, "So that's Rooster, huh?"

"Yeah," she replied quietly, her tone tight. "That's him."

Bradley walked over to the pool table, just as Phoenix bent down to take her shot, her pool cue stretching across the table and catching Bradley square in the gut. He stumbled back slightly, clutching his stomach with a half-smile, as Phoenix straightened, grinning.

"This is how I find out you're stateside?" she asked, eyebrows raised, her tone playfully reproachful.

Bradley managed a chuckle, but his attention drifted, his gaze landing on Alexa. She was standing near the edge of the group, watching him with a familiar intensity that was hard to ignore. Ten years had passed since they'd last spoken—years full of things neither of them had ever said out loud. As their eyes locked, all the color drained from Bradley's face, the gravity of the past catching up in a heartbeat.

"Michell," he said finally, his voice low and just a bit unsteady.

"Bradshaw," Alexa replied, matching his tone perfectly, her face unreadable.

Phoenix's eyes darted between the two, curiosity flickering across her face. "Wait—hold on. You two know each other?" For all her years of friendship with Alexa, Phoenix had never heard a word about Bradley. The only person who knew the full story was Gretzky, and even then, it was in bits and pieces.

Just then, as if the tension wasn't thick enough, Hangman sauntered over with that ever-present, infuriating smirk, with Coyote grinning beside him. "Bradshaw, as I live and breathe," Hangman drawled, his voice dripping with faux charm.

Bradley tore his gaze from Alexa, greeting Hangman with a thin smile. "Hangman, you look... good."

Hangman didn't miss a beat, taking the pool cue out of Bob's hands with a showy twirl. "I am good, Rooster. I'm very good," he replied, his tone so cocky it was almost a caricature. "Almost too good to be true."

Alexa rolled her eyes at the exchange, trying to ignore the flicker of tension in her stomach. Hangman and Bradley had a rivalry that predated most of their recent missions, and though it was usually lighthearted, it didn't take much for things to get heated. She shifted her weight, crossing her arms as she watched the two men size each other up.

"Easy, Hangman," she cut in, giving him a pointed look. "Don't break a sweat. Save it for the air."

Hangman raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful glint in his eye. "Just saying hi, Bolr. No harm done."

Gretzky nudged her with a grin. "So, this is the famous Rooster, huh?"

Alexa shot him a warning look, feeling the weight of Bradley's eyes still on her. There was history between them—more than Phoenix or anyone else here knew. And just like that, the old memories started flooding back, mingling with the present in a way she hadn't anticipated.

Phoenix, sensing the tension, stepped in with her usual no-nonsense attitude. "Well, now that the gang's all here, why don't we get another round going?" She waved over to the bartender, flashing a grin at Alexa. "Let's see if you're still the Bolter I remember."

Alexa forced a smile, trying to shake off the weight of old memories as she nodded toward the bar. "Oh, I can hold my own," she replied, her voice steady but lacking its usual spark. Yet, beneath her calm exterior, a strange feeling lingered, pulling at her like an undertow.

Phoenix grabbed Alexa's arm, gently but firmly, guiding her through the crowd towards the bar. Alexa could feel her friend's gaze on her, assessing, waiting for an explanation.

"What the hell was that, Lex?" Phoenix asked, her tone light but her eyes sharp, side-eyeing Alexa as they made their way to an open spot at the bar. Phoenix was one of the few people who could read Alexa like an open book, and she clearly wasn't letting this slide.

"Nothing," Alexa replied quickly, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. "Nothing, it doesn't matter."

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Oh, sure," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You looked like you'd seen a ghost back there. You're not fooling me."

Alexa hesitated, the words catching in her throat. The truth was, she didn't even know where to begin. How could she explain everything that had happened with Bradley—the years, the regrets, the things left unsaid? She forced a tight smile instead, giving Phoenix a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Just... old stuff. Really, it's nothing. I'll be fine."

Phoenix didn't look convinced, but she let it slide for now, signaling the bartender for two drinks. Alexa tried to stay in the moment, nodding along as Phoenix chatted, but her mind kept drifting back to Bradley. His face, the way he'd looked at her, the unspoken tension that had settled between them—none of it was as distant as she'd hoped. The familiarity of it all, the pain she'd buried long ago, had resurfaced too fast and too suddenly.

After a while, she felt her grip on her glass tighten, her knuckles turning white. She couldn't do this—not tonight. Not with him so close, not with the past crashing down on her all at once.

"I... I think I need to step out for a bit," she said, her voice barely audible. Phoenix looked at her, a hint of worry in her eyes, but Alexa forced a reassuring smile. "I'll be back. Just need some air."

Without waiting for a response, Alexa slipped through the crowd, weaving her way to the exit as quickly as she could. The cool night air hit her like a wave as she stepped outside, and she took a deep breath, savoring the quiet after the noise and energy inside. But even here, outside The Hard Deck, the memories wouldn't let her go.

Without realizing it, Alexa's feet carried her further down the street, the familiar rhythm of the city guiding her until she ended up back at her apartment. The streets were quiet, her footsteps echoing softly as she unlocked her door and stepped inside. The silence of her place was a comfort, grounding her as she leaned against the door, finally letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

She stood there, feeling the weight of it all settle over her—the past, the memories of her and Bradley, the unresolved feelings she'd locked away. She knew she'd have to face it eventually, but tonight, all she wanted was a moment of peace.

But as she looked around the quiet of her apartment, she realized peace might be the one thing she wouldn't find for a while.

🛩️🛩️🛩️

 AUTHORS NOTE !

this chapter's a bit short, but i really wanted to get the first real chapter out for you all this friday. i'm so excited to finally start alexa's story and share it with you!

next chapter, we're diving into the drama—alexa and bradley will finally talk, and with all their history, let's just say it won't be smooth. they'll definitely start off as enemies. and alexa's reaction to seeing maverick again? that's going to be emotional for her.

hope you enjoyed this chapter! let me know what you think or if you have ideas on what should happen. can't wait to hear from you!

see you friday!