ꔛ 𓈒 *🌊🖇˚ ᦃ ･ ﹆ ˚🛩️ ◞˚ₓ 🫀⁕˚彡

F O U R :
'always an angel, never a god'
── not strong enough : boy genies & phoebe bridgers
𝟶:𝟶𝟶 ──◍───── 𝟷:𝟹𝟶

❝ always an angel, never a god
always an angel, never a god
always an angel, never a god
always an angel, never a god ❞

〖 🌊 ੈ✩‧₊🛩️ 〗

°。°。°。°。°。°。

Alexa sat next to Gretsky, watching as Maverick stood up at the front of the classroom, arms crossed, staring each one of them down like he could already see who would break first. On the screen behind him, in big bold letters, were the words "Three Minutes to Target." The room was silent, tense, like everyone was just waiting to hear what impossible stunt he had planned next.

"Time is your greatest enemy," Maverick started, letting each word hang heavy in the air. He paused, looking out at them as if daring anyone to say otherwise. Alexa felt herself lean forward, barely realizing it. She glanced sideways and caught Gretsky's unimpressed smirk.

Maverick went on, his voice that no-nonsense tone that told you he meant every word. "Phase one of the mission will be a low-level ingress, attacking in two-plane teams." He paused again, clicking to a map of a canyon that seemed impossibly narrow. "You'll fly along this narrow canyon to your target. Radar-guided surface-to-air missiles defend the area. These SAMs... they're lethal. But they were designed to protect the skies above, not the canyon below."

From somewhere in the room, Rooster's voice cut in, his tone dead serious but tinged with disbelief. "That's because the enemy knows no one is insane enough to try and fly below them." He raised an eyebrow, and Alexa couldn't help but roll her eyes. Only Bradley would make a point of saying exactly what she was thinking out loud. And after their talk on the tarmac a few hours ago, he had every reason to keep his mouth shut.

But Maverick didn't miss a beat. He looked right at Rooster and said, "That's exactly what I'm gonna train you to do. On the day of the mission, your altitude will be 100 feet maximum."

Alexa's breath caught, and she shared a quick, wide-eyed look with Gretsky, who just shook his head, mouthing crazy like they both weren't already signed up for this insanity.

"You exceed this altitude," Maverick continued, not missing a beat, "the radar will spot you, and you're dead." His gaze swept over them, locking on Alexa for a split second, like he was making sure everyone knew he meant it. She could practically feel her pulse picking up, her mind already racing through the math.

"Your airspeed will be 660 knots, minimum. Time to target: two and a half minutes," he continued. "That's because fifth-generation fighters will be waiting at a nearby air base. In a head-to-head with these planes, in your F-18s..." Maverick didn't even have to finish. Everyone knew what he was about to say. "You're dead. That's why you need to get in, hit your target, and be gone before they even have a chance to catch you. This makes time your greatest adversary."

Alexa felt her jaw drop as she tried to imagine it—660 knots, under 100 feet, and somehow she was supposed to stay focused enough to hit a target. She stole another glance at Gretsky, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, Welcome to Maverick's version of easy.

"You'll fly a route in your nav system that simulates the canyon," Maverick added. "The faster you navigate, the harder it'll be to stay under the radar of these enemy SAMs. The tighter the turns, the more intense the force of gravity on your body. G-force will compress your lungs, force the blood from your brain, impair your judgment, and your reaction time." He sighed, almost like he was delivering some bad news, but Alexa knew he was just daring them to complain. "So for today's lesson, we're gonna take it easy on you. Max ceiling: 300 feet. Time to target: three minutes. Good luck."

The room was dead silent as Maverick finished, his words hanging like a challenge. Alexa couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Gretsky, who was staring straight ahead, eyebrows raised, clearly amused.

"Three minutes," he muttered under his breath to Alexa, voice low. "No big deal, right?"

She gave him a sidelong look. "Sure. Cakewalk," she said, but there was no denying the nerves creeping into her voice. Gretsky, of course, only grinned.

"Remember that time you almost ran into the side of that mountain in Colorado?" he teased. "Pretty sure that was, what, three seconds to target?"

"Hey, I was a kid back then," she shot back, though she felt herself relax a bit, just from Gretsky's easy tone. The guy could make a tornado sound like a Sunday picnic. Still, she was reminded of the kind of pressure they were under now. No training, no simulator had prepared her for what this was actually going to be.

Everyone else had gone before them, each team taking their shot at Maverick's impossible challenge. Alexa's nerves twisted as she watched the others. They'd all failed, in one way or another. No one had made it through clean.

Alexa rolled her eyes as Maverick announced their pairing. She was paired with Gretsky and—of all people—Bradley as lead. Great, she thought sarcastically. This couldn't have been any better if Maverick had tried.

Gretsky seemed less fazed, adjusting his helmet with a shrug and flashing her a wry grin. "Well, look on the bright side," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You get to spend the next twenty minutes listening to your best friend Bradshaw bark orders. Just like the good old days."

She scowled, tightening the straps on her helmet. "Don't call him that."

Gretsky just grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. "What? Best friend? Bradshaw?" he taunted. "Or are you just mad because you can't avoid him for one damn mission?"

Alexa glared but kept quiet. She knew Gretsky was just teasing, but the tension from last night hadn't faded. She'd gone to bed frustrated, unable to shake the memory of that confrontation on the tarmac and at the Hard Deck. Now she was supposed to follow Bradley's lead through a canyon run with zero room for mistakes. Perfect.

As they climbed into their jets, Gretsky's voice crackled over her comm. "Just don't bite his head off till we're on the ground, alright? We'd all like to live through this run."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, checking her instruments with laser focus. Her mind was locked on the mission, shutting out everything else—at least, she tried to. Gretsky's laugh came through one last time.

"Think of it as therapy," he quipped. "Flying tight formation with your nemesis. What could go wrong?"

The radio switched to Bradley's channel before she could answer. "Ready up. Formation starts in sixty. Keep it tight."

The canyon loomed ahead as they flew into formation. Bradley's voice sounded calm and in control, every instruction precise. "Stay low, keep your turns tight. No more than a hundred feet, you know the drill."

"Copy that," Alexa answered, keeping her tone clipped and professional. Her jet hugged the canyon floor, Gretsky a few feet behind her, Bradley just ahead. The initial turns were intense, but she managed, weaving through each with a firm grip. The steep rock walls rushed by, narrow enough to force her focus but just wide enough to feel them slip.

"Watch your angle, you're drifting again," Bradley's voice came in, sharper than necessary.

"Under control," she snapped back, guiding herself back into line. She could almost feel him judging her from the cockpit.

Gretsky chimed in with a barely suppressed laugh. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Rooster."

Bradley ignored him, continuing with his tight commands as they entered another series of sharp turns, but Alexa felt the tension crackling. He was right on every technical detail, sure, but his delivery felt like it was laced with criticism. It brought her right back to the arguments of yesterday, the lingering resentment they hadn't had time to bury.

Halfway through the run, she felt herself slipping just slightly, her angle off by a fraction, and Bradley immediately pointed it out. "Alexa, you're off. You're lagging on that turn."

"Got it," she replied through clenched teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her. She corrected her course, managing to stay on his wing.

The turns grew tighter, the pressure of G-force settling heavily in her chest, but they were losing time. She could hear it in Bradley's breathing, steady but tense, as if he was silently willing them to speed up, to somehow make up for lost seconds.

"We're slipping the clock," Gretsky's voice cut in. "Too slow, Rooster. Unless we can bend time, we're not making it."

Bradley's voice came through the comms, steady but laced with determination. "We'll be fine. Just keep it tight and push it. We can make up the time."

Alexa grit her teeth, fighting against the pressure of the G-force as they whipped around another hairpin turn, the canyon walls a blur on either side. Easy for you to say, she thought bitterly, her eyes trained on his jet ahead. The seconds kept ticking away, and every movement had to be razor-sharp, but she felt the creeping edge of doubt. The clock was unforgiving.

But as the final stretch loomed, she could tell—they weren't going to make it. The target came and went, the numbers flashing red across her display. They'd missed it. She heard Gretsky exhale sharply, probably biting back something sarcastic, and Bradley's silence settled over them like a heavy weight. He pulled out of the run, the other two following.

The flight back was filled with silence, each of them retreating into their own frustration. Alexa's mind was a storm of anger, irritation, and exhaustion, all aimed squarely at Bradley. She'd had enough of him breathing down her neck, enough of his commands, enough of the way he seemed to get under her skin and stay there.

As soon as they touched down, she unbuckled and climbed out of her jet, barely waiting for Gretsky before striding toward the tarmac. She hadn't made it ten steps before she heard Bradley's footsteps behind her.

"Alexa!" he called, his voice carrying through the noise of the airfield.

She spun around, jaw clenched. "What?"

His gaze was steady, almost defiant. "You know that could've gone a lot smoother if you'd kept your altitude where I told you."

"Oh, I'm the problem?" she shot back, crossing her arms. "We were all pushing it, Bradley. Maybe if you'd given us some breathing room instead of micromanaging every single move—"

"I was trying to keep you both on track," he cut in sharply. "This isn't a game, Alexa. We can't afford slip-ups like that."

"Slip-ups?" She took a step closer, her eyes flashing. "You think I was the one slipping up? You didn't even trust us to handle the course. You don't trust me."

Gretsky hung back, watching the scene unfold with a wry expression, but he wisely stayed quiet. Alexa didn't care. She was too far gone in her frustration, all the things she hadn't said last night spilling out now.

Bradley's jaw tightened, but his voice remained level. "I'm trying to keep you alive out there. Maybe you should be less focused on your ego and more on the damn mission."

"Oh, my ego?" She scoffed. "You're the one who thinks they're running this whole show. Maverick put you in the lead, but that doesn't mean you get to act like—"

He stepped closer, his gaze steely. "Like what? Like I actually know what I'm doing?"

Alexa felt her temper flare. "If you really knew what you were doing, we would've hit that target on time. So maybe next time, don't drag us down with you."

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he was going to say something else, but instead, he let out a short, humorless laugh. "Fine. Next time, I'll leave you to it. Let's see how well you handle things on your own."

Alexa felt the sting of his words, but she refused to let it show. She lifted her chin, her eyes hard. "Fine. Maybe I'll actually make it to the target next time."

Bradley just shook his head, giving her one last look before turning and walking away. She felt a surge of mixed anger and relief, but as she watched him disappear across the tarmac, she couldn't shake the tension still coiled in her chest. Gretsky strolled up beside her, his expression thoughtful as he watched Bradley's retreating figure.

"Wow," Gretsky muttered, casting a sideways glance at Alexa. "You two really have a way of making fireworks look like child's play."

She rolled her eyes, unwilling to let Gretsky's commentary dig under her skin. "Don't start."

Gretsky raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying, if there was an award for unresolved tension, you two would've won it ages ago."

She shot him a glare but bit back her retort. Ignoring his smirk, she headed inside, hoping to cool off in the briefing room. The crisp, air-conditioned air hit her as she walked in, and she could already feel the tension in her muscles loosening slightly. She grabbed a seat in the back, dropping down and leaning back as she let out a slow, frustrated breath. Gretsky took a seat next to her, watching her with an amused expression.

A minute later, Bradley walked in, his face unreadable. He glanced at her briefly but didn't say anything as he took a seat across the room. The silence felt thick and charged, each of them lost in their own thoughts, their irritation simmering just below the surface.

Maverick strode into the briefing room, his gaze flicking from Bradley to Alexa as he immediately sensed the tension pulsing between them, thick as smoke. He didn't ask any questions; his face gave away nothing, though the silence that followed felt more charged. Instead, he shook his head, moved to the front of the room, and started the debrief with a practiced, icy calm.

"Why are they dead?"

His voice was sharp as he looked at Coyote, each word loaded with more weight than the last. Phoenix and Bob's footage flashed on the screen, the aftermath of their failed run playing in harsh, unforgiving detail. Everyone's eyes turned to Phoenix, waiting, but Maverick's stare remained fixed on Coyote.

Phoenix answered first, her tone clipped, a slight edge of defensiveness breaking through. "We broke the 300-foot ceiling. A SAM took us out."

Maverick's expression didn't waver, gaze hardening. "No," he repeated, each syllable like a strike. "Why are they dead?" He directed the question toward Coyote, as if he expected something more honest, something that went beyond technicalities.

Coyote swallowed, his gaze falling to the table. "I... I slowed down and didn't warn her in time. It was my fault."

Maverick pressed on without a hint of mercy. "Was there a reason you didn't communicate with your team?" His tone was razor-sharp, cutting through any excuses before they could take shape.

Coyote's response came out shaky. "I was... focusing on—"

"On what?" Maverick interrupted, eyes narrowing. "One that their families will accept at the funeral?"

The room went still, the air sucked out entirely as Coyote's shoulders slumped under the weight of Maverick's words. Alexa's stomach twisted, the merciless tone in her father's voice resonating painfully, echoing in her chest.

"No, sir," Coyote murmured, voice barely a whisper as he looked down, visibly shaken.

Maverick's gaze shifted to Phoenix. "Why didn't you anticipate the turn? You were briefed on the terrain." He didn't even give her a chance to answer before he added, "Don't tell me. Tell it to his family." His eyes bore into her, relentless, pushing the weight of failure onto her shoulders too. Phoenix held her ground, though she shifted uncomfortably under the glare, eyes flicking briefly toward Bob.

The tension continued to mount as Maverick turned to the next footage, featuring Hangman, Fanboy, and Payback. He looked back at the group, his eyes landing on Hangman with a gaze that demanded accountability. "What happened?"

Hangman barely hesitated, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. "I flew as fast as I could—kinda like my ass depended on it." His nonchalance filled the room, challenging everyone's patience.

Alexa bit back a sigh, glancing at Gretsky beside her, who only folded his arms tighter, jaw clenched. Hangman's arrogance was infectious, grating on everyone in the room, but the smugness in his tone made her fists itch to punch that smirk right off his face.

Rooster leaned forward, his voice cold, brimming with restrained anger. "And you put your team in danger. Your wingman's dead."

Hangman chuckled, brushing off the accusation with a careless shrug. "They couldn't keep up."

Alexa felt the room's air thicken as Maverick's face hardened, his stare shifting to the screen where the footage of her, Gretsky, and Rooster's run began to play. Her pulse quickened, feeling her father's gaze zeroing in on her. When the footage ended, Maverick turned to her, eyes narrowing.

"Why are you dead?" His words struck like a physical blow. "You were the team leader. Why is your team dead?"

Phoenix's voice came to her defense quickly, "Sir, they're the only ones who made it to the target."

Maverick's gaze didn't soften. "A minute late," he replied, each word weighted, "giving enemy aircraft time to intercept. They're dead."

Rooster clenched his jaw, a note of defiance in his voice as he spoke up. "You don't know that."

Hangman scoffed from his seat, crossing his arms with an obnoxious grin. "You're not flying fast enough. You don't have a second to waste."

Rooster shot him a glare, his voice a low, tense growl. "We made it to the target."

"And superior enemy aircraft intercepted you on the way out," Maverick cut in, tone unforgiving.

"Then it's a dogfight," Rooster shot back, refusing to back down, his jaw set.

Maverick's eyes flashed with frustration. "Against fifth-generation fighters?" His tone was ice-cold, but Rooster held his ground, undeterred.

"Yeah," Rooster replied, voice unwavering. "We'd still have a chance."

"In an F-18?" Maverick leaned forward, his voice booming now, a harsh edge underlying every word. "It's not the plane, sir," Rooster responded, his voice edged with steely resolve. "It's the pilot."

The room fell silent, everyone's gaze fixed on the two of them. Alexa felt a knot form in her stomach as she watched her father's intensity clash with Rooster's defiance. Maverick's tone softened, but his eyes remained hard, "Exactly."

Alexa's grip tightened on the edge of the table, sensing the tension in Rooster. Beside her, Gretsky shifted, his hand briefly brushing her arm, as if urging her to say something, to step in. But she held back, her loyalty divided between her father's demands and Rooster's need to prove himself.

Rooster's jaw clenched. "There's more than one way to fly this mission."

Hangman rolled his eyes, barely concealing a sneer. "On this mission, you fly like Maverick, or you don't come back." He smirked, glancing dismissively at Alexa and Phoenix, his voice laced with smug arrogance. "No offense, ladies."

Bob scoffed, raising an eyebrow in irritation. "Somehow, you always manage."    

Hangman leaned back, ignoring the reaction around him. "Look, I don't mean to criticize. You're conservative, that's all," he said, aiming his words directly at Rooster.

"Lieutenant—" Maverick's tone was sharp, a warning.

But Hangman wasn't about to let go. "We're going into combat, son, on a level no living pilot's ever seen—not even him," he said, gesturing toward Maverick with a dismissive nod. He shifted his gaze to Alexa, his grin widening. "That's no time to be thinking about the past, right, Lex?"

Rooster's face hardened, his fists clenching. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Rooster," Maverick tried to intervene, his voice tense, trying to keep things from boiling over.

Hangman didn't back down, his voice full of implication. "I can't be the only one here who knows Alexa's father flew with Bradshaw's old man," he said, his words hitting like a slap.

"Hangman," Alexa snapped, her voice cutting through the tension as she tried to stop him, feeling the anger radiating off Rooster.

Ignoring her, Hangman pressed on, unbothered. "Or that Maverick was flying with his old man when—"

Rooster shot up, rage flashing in his eyes as he lunged at Hangman. Voices erupted around them, hands reaching to hold him back, but Alexa was already there, standing between them with her hand on Bradley's chest, pushing him away with steady pressure. She knew all too well how raw the subject of his father was, and the last thing she wanted was for Hangman's goading to push him over the edge.

"You son of a bitch," Bradley spat, his voice filled with a hurt that ran deeper than Hangman would ever grasp.

Hangman laughed, shrugging off the tension as if it was nothing. "I'm cool, I'm cool." He looked at Maverick with a smirk, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "He's not cut out for this mission, and we both know it."

"That's enough!" Maverick's voice cracked through the room, silencing everyone as he asserted his authority, eyes sharp as he stared down Hangman.

Hangman leaned back, his smirk widening as he looked at Alexa. "You always act like you've got it together, Lex," he said, his tone laced with venom. "But we all know deep down you're just a broken mess trying to hold it in. You're not fooling anyone."

He paused, his eyes cold and calculating. "Don't think the tough girl routine's gonna work forever. People like you, they crack eventually."

The words hit harder than they should have, but Alexa didn't hesitate. Without a word, she spun around and landed a solid punch straight to Hangman's jaw. The room went quiet as his head snapped back, the impact echoing in the still air. He staggered slightly, a look of disbelief crossing his face.

Alexa didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Her glare was enough. She stepped back, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, waiting for him to process what had just happened.

Hangman wiped the blood from his lip, his smirk still present but weaker now. "Nice shot," he muttered, but there was less confidence in his voice.

Alexa took a step toward him, her voice low and controlled. "Shut up," she said, her eyes not leaving his.

For a moment, it seemed like Hangman might say something more, but he just clenched his jaw and stayed silent, realizing he'd pushed it too far.

Maverick's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Enough, you're all dismissed!" he barked, his tone final.

Alexa didn't wait for anyone to say another word. She turned on her heel and walked out, anger still simmering beneath the surface. She needed space, away from Hangman, Bradley, and the mess they'd just created.

"Lex, wait up!" Bradley's voice rang out behind her, and she kept walking, ignoring him at first.

He caught up quickly, stepping in front of her to block her path. "You really had to do that, didn't you?"

She stopped, meeting his eyes with a steely gaze. "What's your problem?"

"You think throwing a punch is going to fix anything?" Bradley's voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge to it.

Alexa's jaw tightened, but she didn't back down. "He needed to be put in his place."

Bradley exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, but now we're all stuck cleaning up the mess. You can't keep doing this."

She took a step closer, her voice calm but firm. "I didn't ask for your opinion, Bradshaw."

He shot her a look, clearly frustrated. "I'm just saying—this isn't the way to handle things."

"Then maybe you should've stepped in, instead of standing there like you always do," Alexa shot back, her patience wearing thin.

Bradley flinched, but his expression didn't soften. "I'm not your babysitter, Lex. You can take care of yourself, but you don't have to do it like this."

Alexa's eyes narrowed. "Just leave it, Bradshaw."

Without another word, she brushed past him and walked out, leaving Bradley standing in the hallway, the tension still thick between them.

. . . . . ╰──╮~ 🛩️ ~╭──╯ . . . . .

Alexa walked into the house, the door clicking softly behind her as she tossed her bag onto the couch. The place was quiet—eerily so. The hum of the fridge was the only sound, and outside, the evening traffic seemed miles away. She kicked off her boots and let out a deep breath, rubbing her eyes, trying to shake off the tension from the day. It had been one of those days, full of buildup and nothing good to show for it. Just the usual chaos at the base, and that... incident with Hangman.

She wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of water. She didn't even know why she felt like she had to drink it; it was more of a way to keep herself moving, keep from spiraling into her thoughts.

As she leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the sink, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, seeing Iceman's name on the screen.

Iceman:
Lex, come over for a chat. It's important. 10 minutes.

Alexa stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the keys. Iceman didn't text unless it was necessary, and when he did, it was never good news. She hadn't seen him in a while—not since the tension between them had grown thicker with each passing day. There had always been a certain distance, but lately, it felt different. The phone buzzed again, bringing her back to reality.

Iceman:
It's important, Lex. Please.

She sighed, feeling a knot form in her stomach. Whatever it was, it wasn't something she could avoid. The last thing she needed was to add to the mess of her already chaotic life, but Iceman had his ways of making things feel urgent. She typed back quickly.

Alexa:
On my way.

She tossed her phone onto the couch and grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair. Her heart was already racing—her mind working overtime, trying to prepare for whatever this was going to be. The drive over to Iceman's house was quiet, the weight of the situation pressing on her chest. It didn't help that she hadn't been there in a while. She knew she had to face whatever conversation was waiting for her, but that didn't make it any easier.

When she finally pulled into Iceman's driveway, the familiar sight of his house loomed in front of her. It was the kind of place that always made her feel like she was a part of something—like there was still a foundation under her feet. Still, tonight, it felt distant. The house, the memories, everything felt like it was holding its breath.

She walked up to the door, her boots making soft clicks on the pavement, and knocked gently. Sarah opened the door, her smile a little warmer than usual, but there was something in her eyes that Alexa couldn't quite place—a sadness that lingered in the corners of her expression.

"Hey, Lex," Sarah said, pulling her into a hug. "Good to see you."

"Hey, Sarah." Alexa returned the hug, but it felt a little different now. There was an unspoken heaviness in the air.

"Is it...?" Alexa asked, knowing what the answer would be but needing to hear it anyway.

Sarah hesitated for a moment, her eyes glossing over. "Yeah. It's back." She nodded, her voice tight.

Alexa felt the heaviness of Sarah's words settle in her chest. She swallowed hard, pushing back the wave of emotion that threatened to crash over her. She knew this day would come eventually, but hearing it aloud made it all the more real. She nodded quietly, her throat tightening.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah," she murmured, pulling away slightly to give Sarah a comforting squeeze before stepping inside. The familiar smell of home—coffee, books, and something sweet baking in the oven—hit her immediately, but it felt different now. The house, once so full of warmth, now seemed a little dimmer, quieter.

Sarah led her down the hall, her movements slower than Alexa remembered, but still steady. They stopped outside Iceman's office, where the faint sound of the computer clicking echoed softly through the door. Alexa hesitated, her hand resting lightly on the doorknob.

"He's in there, right?" Alexa asked, trying to keep her voice level.

"Yeah," Sarah replied softly. "He's waiting for you." Her eyes lingered on Alexa's face for a moment longer, searching, but she didn't press.

Alexa nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say once she walked through that door. The past few months had been hard on her—on all of them—and seeing Iceman again, especially under these circumstances, was only going to make everything feel more real. But she couldn't put it off.

She knocked softly before entering, the door creaking as it opened. Iceman looked up from his computer, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he saw her, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. His face was still unmistakably familiar, but there was a weariness to him now. The kind of weariness that spoke of battles fought and fought again, whether it was on the tarmac or inside his own body.

"Hey, Uncle Ice," Alexa said, trying to keep her voice steady, but she couldn't quite mask the way it cracked at the edges.

Iceman typed something quickly on his computer before looking back at her, his gaze sharp. His eyes always had this way of cutting through her, seeing through everything she didn't want to admit.

Iceman: Good to see you, Lex.

Alexa swallowed, her hands nervously tucking into the pockets of her jacket. She didn't know what she was supposed to say. She wasn't good at talking about things like this, not when it came to people she cared about. Not when it felt like the floor beneath her was about to crack open.

"I didn't know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know it was back."

Iceman looked at her for a long time, his gaze steady but carrying a kind of quiet understanding. He typed again, slower this time, as if the words were coming from a place that needed to be said.

Iceman: I didn't want you to find out like this.

She bit her lip, trying to stop the rush of emotions from coming up. She hadn't wanted to find out like this either. She wasn't ready. But it was there, hanging in the air, as undeniable as the breath she took. It was back, and she didn't know how to deal with it.

"I thought I had more time," she said, the words escaping before she could stop them. Her chest felt tight.

Iceman didn't answer immediately. Instead, he just studied her, like he was trying to figure out what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Then he typed again.

Iceman: It's been a long road. I'm not going to make it much longer, Lex. But I'm not done yet. Not yet.

Alexa's heart skipped a beat, her hands gripping the edges of her jacket a little tighter. She had known, deep down, that things weren't looking good. But hearing it from him, seeing it in his eyes, made it feel real in a way it hadn't before.

"I don't know what to say," she muttered, her throat closing up again.

Iceman gave her a soft look, his lips pulling into a tight smile. Iceman: You don't have to say anything. Just... I'll give you some advise, 

Life's too short to hold grudges, Lex. You don't know how long we've got. Talk to Bradley. Don't let the small stuff keep you apart. I've seen too many people waste time with that. Time you don't get back.

Alexa stood there, the words sinking deep. She didn't say anything for a long moment, just stood there processing it all. The truth was, she didn't know if she was ready to make amends, but hearing it from him made something click.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd really spoken to Bradley, not since everything had fallen apart. But maybe it was time. Maybe it was time to stop holding onto whatever bitterness she had.

Iceman looked at her, his eyes steady but kind, like he'd said all he needed to say.

Iceman: You'll figure it out. Just don't wait too long.

Alexa felt the tightness in her chest loosen a little, as if the weight of it all was easing just a bit. She nodded slowly, her fingers still gripping the edge of his chair, her voice soft but firm.

"I will," she whispered. "I'll talk to him."

Iceman gave a small nod, his eyes still kind but heavy with the weight of everything unspoken. The silence between them stretched, filled with the things they both knew but hadn't said aloud.

Then, without warning, Alexa moved forward, her arms wrapping around him in a quick, tight hug. She hadn't meant to, but something about the moment, something about hearing the finality in his words, made her just need to feel that connection. She buried her face in his shoulder, letting the tears she had been holding back finally slip free.

Iceman, slow and careful, returned the hug. His hand rested gently on her back, the weight of it soft but steady. There was no need for words now. They both understood.

When Alexa pulled away from the hug, wiping at her eyes quickly, she tried to offer a small, apologetic smile, her voice cracking as she spoke.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, the words coming out almost too softly. "I didn't mean to—"

But before she could finish, Iceman tightened his grip on her, pulling her back into the embrace with more strength than she expected. His arms were steady, like a silent promise that she didn't have to explain herself, didn't have to apologize for feeling what she felt.

"Don't apologize, Lex."

His voice was quieter than usual, but there was something calming in it. Alexa closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest once more, letting herself stay there a little longer, not wanting to pull away just yet. There was no rush.

Iceman held her for another moment, his grip softening but still there—like he was reminding her that no matter what, she wasn't alone.

Finally, after a beat, he let go, giving her a soft pat on the back before letting his hands fall to his sides. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

"I'll talk to him," she said again, her voice a little firmer this time.

Iceman gave her a knowing look, his eyes full of quiet understanding.

🛩️🛩️🛩️

AUTHORS NOTE !

i've rewritten this so many times, trying to make it perfect and nice, but i'm still not sure how i feel about how it turned out. i guess it's one of those things where you keep trying and it just doesn't feel quite right, no matter how many edits you make. but i figured i'd post it anyway. i hope it still resonates with someone, even if i'm not completely happy with it.

guys . . . i literally have no patience and i'm soooo exited about this book so i'm going to be posting all of the chapters now . . . except for the last chapter (aka see you again) on friday! i literally cant wait for weeks for it to be posted !! - i also have two epilogues so i'm super exited about those too!