ꔛ 𓈒 *🌊🖇˚ ᦃ ･ ﹆ ˚🛩️ ◞˚ₓ 🫀⁕˚彡

S E V E N :
'the kids are in town for a funeral'
── pink skies : zac brian
𝟶:𝟶𝟶 ──◍───── 𝟷:𝟹𝟶

❝ the kids are in town for a funeral
so pack the car and dry your eyes
i know they got plenty young blood left in 'em
and plenty nights under pink skies you taught 'em to enjoy. ❞

〖 🌊 ੈ✩‧₊🛩️ 〗

°。°。°。°。°。°。

Alexa stood motionless beside Gretzky and Bradley, the weight of the moment pressing down on her shoulders like the full force of gravity. Her throat ached, her chest burned, but she didn't cry. She couldn't. Not here. Not now. She bit the inside of her cheek until the metallic taste of blood seeped onto her tongue, a desperate effort to keep the grief from spilling over.

Bradley shifted beside her, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his knuckles bone white. She didn't need to look at him to know his jaw was clenched so hard it would probably ache later. Gretzky stood like a statue on her other side, his face unreadable, his aviators concealing his eyes, but she could feel the tremble in his hands as they brushed against hers.

And then, Maverick stepped forward.

The casket gleamed under the muted sunlight, the American flag stretched taut over its surface. The man who had always been larger than life now seemed smaller, almost fragile, as he approached the casket. In his hands, he held Ice's wings—gold and shining, a symbol of everything he had been.

Alexa's breath caught in her throat as Maverick knelt beside the casket. His fingers trembled as he placed the wings just below the flag, pinning them into the wood with deliberate precision. It was slow, reverent, almost as if he were afraid to let go.

When he rose, his hand lingered on the casket for a moment, and Alexa could see the way his shoulders shook ever so slightly. He didn't say a word, but the silence screamed louder than anything he could've said.

The bugler began to play Taps, the mournful notes cutting through the air, and Alexa's carefully constructed composure cracked. She felt the tears spill over, hot and relentless, streaking down her face. She didn't wipe them away.

The folded flag was presented to Ice's widow, and Alexa saw her crumble, clutching it to her chest as if it were him she was holding. And that was it—the last tangible piece of him, gone.

As the ceremony ended and the crowd began to disperse, Alexa stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the casket as if willing him to rise, to grin at them one last time, to say, "What are you all crying about? I'm fine."

But he didn't.

. . . . . ╰──╮~ 🛩️ ~╭──╯ . . . . .

Alexa sat beneath the old oak tree, her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. The bark pressed into her back, rough and unyielding, but she didn't care. It was grounding, at least—a tether to a reality that felt impossibly fractured. The sky had turned a muted gray, as if mourning with her, and the air was heavy with the promise of rain.

She stared blankly at the uneven ground, tracing the patterns of fallen leaves with her eyes. She hadn't cried since the funeral, not really. She thought maybe she'd used up all her tears, but the hollow ache in her chest was so much worse. Tears would've been a release, a catharsis. This was just... numbness.

The sound of approaching footsteps on the dry leaves pulled her from her thoughts. She didn't have to look up to know who it was. She recognized the rhythm of his steps, the weight of them, the way they slowed as they drew nearer.

"Alexa," Bradley's voice was quiet but firm, like he was bracing himself for whatever storm might be brewing inside her.

She didn't respond.

He crouched in front of her, his face lined with exhaustion, his own grief evident in the tight set of his jaw. "I've been looking for you."

She shrugged, her gaze fixed on a spot over his shoulder. "Didn't ask you to."

The bite in her tone was deliberate, and she saw him flinch, even if he tried to hide it.

"Don't do that," he said softly, his eyes searching hers.

"Do what?" She finally looked at him, her expression blank but her voice sharp. "Sit under a tree? Be alone? What exactly am I doing that's bothering you, Bradley?"

His brows furrowed, frustration flashing across his face. "You know what I mean. You're shutting me out."

"Maybe I want to be shut out."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Dammit, Alexa. You don't have to do this alone. I'm here. I've always been here."

Her laughter was bitter, almost a scoff. "Yeah? Funny, I don't remember you being there when I needed you most. Guess my memory must be faulty."

His eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. "That's not fair, and you know it."

"Oh, it's not fair?" She stood abruptly, the sudden movement startling him. Her voice rose, trembling with anger and pain. "You disappeared, Bradley. You left. Just like everyone else. And now you want to swoop in and play the hero? Save me from myself? It's too late for that."

"I didn't leave!" he shot back, standing to face her. "I didn't have a choice, Alexa! You think I wanted to walk away from you? From us?"

"What us?" she spat, her eyes blazing. "There was no us, Bradley. There never was. You made sure of that."

His face fell, and for a moment, he looked as if she'd physically struck him. But then his own anger bubbled to the surface, his voice rising to match hers. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don't hate myself every day for what happened? I loved him too, Alexa. He was family to me too!"

"Then act like it!" she yelled, tears finally spilling over. "Stop pretending like you're the only one who's hurting. Stop acting like you have some monopoly on grief!"

"I'm not pretending!" he shouted back, his voice cracking. "But I'm not the one running away from everyone who cares about me!"

The words hit her like a slap, and for a moment, the only sound was her ragged breathing.

"Why are you even here?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I love you!" The words erupted from him, raw and unfiltered, as if he'd been holding them in for years. "I always have, Alexa. From the moment we were kids. And no matter how hard I tried to push it down, no matter how many times I told myself it wasn't the right time, it's never gone away."

She froze, the world tilting under her feet. Her chest heaved as she stared at him, disbelief and anger and something she couldn't name swirling in her eyes.

"You don't mean that," she said, shaking her head. "You can't."

"I do," he said, his voice softer now but no less intense. "I've loved you through everything, even when you hated me, even when I hated myself. And I can't stand seeing you like this, Alexa. I can't stand the thought of losing you too."

Her legs felt weak, and she sank back down onto the ground, her head in her hands. "Why are you telling me this now? Why now, when everything is already so messed up?"

Bradley stayed where he was, kneeling in front of her, his eyes never leaving her. He swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling as he fought to keep his emotions in check. "Because it's the truth," he said quietly. "And maybe it's selfish, maybe it's the worst timing in the world, but I couldn't keep it in anymore. Not when you're slipping away like this."

She shook her head again, her fingers tugging at her hair as if she could pull herself out of this moment. "It's not fair," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You don't get to do this to me now. Not after everything."

"I know," he said softly. "I know it's not fair. But life hasn't exactly been fair to either of us, has it?"

Her head shot up at that, her eyes blazing. "Don't you dare compare what I've been through to your life, Bradley. You don't know what it's like—"

"I don't know?" he interrupted, his voice sharp. "You think I don't know what it's like to lose someone I love? To carry that weight every damn day? You think I don't know what it's like to feel like you're drowning in your own skin?"

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. He took a shaky breath and leaned closer, his voice dropping to a raw whisper.

"I know, Alexa. I know because I've felt it too. But you're not the only one who's hurting, and you don't have to carry it alone. You don't have to shut me out."

Her chest ached, every word hitting her like a blow, breaking down the walls she'd built so carefully. Tears streamed down her face, unchecked, and she didn't bother to wipe them away. "I don't know how to let you in," she admitted, her voice trembling.

"You don't have to know," he said, his tone softening. "Just let me try."

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and the vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke her. His pain mirrored hers, his grief tangled with hers, and for the first time, she realized just how much he had been carrying, too.

"I'm scared," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I know," he said, his voice steady. "Me too."

His hand moved slowly, hesitantly, until it rested on hers. The warmth of his touch was startling, grounding. She didn't pull away.

The silence stretched between them, heavy but not unbearable. And then, almost imperceptibly, he leaned closer. His breath mingled with hers, his eyes searching hers for any sign to stop.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

She didn't.

Her heart thundered in her chest as his lips brushed hers, tentative and soft, like he was giving her the chance to pull away. But she didn't. Instead, she leaned into him, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

The kiss deepened, all the pain and anger and unspoken words pouring out of them in a way that words never could. It was messy, desperate, and so heartbreakingly real that it left her breathless.

When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, he rested his forehead against hers, his hands cradling her face as if she might disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere, Alexa," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Not now. Not ever."

For the first time in a long time, she believed him.

. . . . . ╰──╮~ 🛩️ ~╭──╯ . . . . .

The house was quiet when Alexa stepped through the front door, the heavy silence pressing down on her like a weight. It smelled faintly of dust and the lemon cleaner someone must have used earlier, though it did little to mask the emptiness that had settled here since Iceman's passing. She hesitated in the doorway, her hand still on the doorknob, before forcing herself to step further inside.

The familiar creak of the old wooden floors echoed in the stillness. She half-expected to find the place empty, but as she rounded the corner into the living room, she froze.

Maverick sat on the couch, his elbows on his knees and his head bowed. His aviators were in his hands, dangling loosely between his fingers. He looked... tired. No, more than tired—drained. His shoulders sagged as though the weight of the world rested on them, and for a man who was usually so unshakable, the sight was jarring.

He glanced up when he heard her footsteps, his expression softening slightly. "Alexa," he said quietly.

She nodded but didn't move closer, lingering in the doorway as if crossing into the room would be too much. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Could ask you the same thing."

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Needed some air."

"Understood," he said simply, turning his gaze back to the floor.

The silence between them stretched, filled only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Finally, Maverick let out a heavy sigh and gestured to the seat across from him. "Sit with me for a minute?"

Alexa hesitated but eventually walked over, sinking into the armchair opposite him. She curled her legs beneath her, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"I've been thinking about you," Maverick said after a moment, his voice low.

She looked up at him, her brows furrowing. "What do you mean?"

He leaned back, resting his head against the couch. "About everything that's happened. About what's coming next." He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And about whether I'm making the right call."

Her heart sank. She knew what he was referring to, but hearing it out loud felt like a punch to the gut. "You mean the mission."

He nodded, his eyes meeting hers. "I know you're capable, Alexa. You wouldn't be here if you weren't. But..." He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his face. "I can't shake this feeling. Sending you out there—it feels wrong."

She straightened in her seat, her voice firm despite the lump forming in her throat. "You don't think I can do it?"

"That's not it," he said quickly, his tone urgent. "I know you can. Hell, you're one of the best. But this mission—it's dangerous. More than dangerous. And I can't help but think about... what it would mean if something happened to you."

She stared at him, her chest tightening. "Dad, I know the risks. I signed up for this. You don't have to protect me."

Maverick's expression softened at the word "Dad," but the worry in his eyes didn't waver. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he clasped his hands together tightly. "I know I don't have to, Alexa," he said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. "But that doesn't mean I won't. You think I can just flip a switch and stop caring?"

She looked away, her jaw tightening as the weight of his words pressed down on her. "This isn't about you caring," she said, her voice sharp, though the tremble at the edges betrayed her emotions. "This is about doing what needs to be done. I can't sit this one out because you're scared."

"Damn it, Alexa, it's not just about me being scared!" Maverick snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "It's about me knowing what's out there. You think I don't remember every single pilot I've lost? Every name, every face? And now I'm supposed to send you out there and act like I don't care if I lose you too?"

Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn't find the words to respond. She stood up abruptly, pacing the room as she tried to sort through the swirl of emotions inside her. "You think this is easy for me?" she asked, her voice rising. "You think I haven't thought about what could happen? About what it would mean if I didn't come back?"

"Then don't go," he said, his voice breaking. "Stay here. There's no shame in stepping back from a fight you're not ready for."

"I am ready!" she shot back, spinning to face him. "I've been ready for this my whole life! You and Ice—you're the ones who taught me how to do this, how to survive. And now you're asking me to walk away? To give up because you're scared? That's not who I am, and you know it."

Maverick stood too, his posture tense, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and fear. "I'm not asking you to give up," he said, his tone softer now but no less firm. "I'm asking you to think about what you're walking into. This mission—it's not like anything we've faced before. It's suicide, Alexa."

She shook her head, her fists clenched at her sides. "I can't believe you're saying this to me. You're Maverick. You've been through worse, and you've come out the other side. You never backed down from anything, even when the odds were stacked against you."

"This isn't about me!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the quiet house. "This is about you. About the fact that I can't—" He stopped, his voice catching as he struggled to continue. "I can't lose you, Alexa. Not you too."

Her breath hitched, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through her anger like a knife. For the first time, she saw the fear in his eyes, the weight he was carrying. It wasn't just about the mission. It was about Ice, about all the losses he'd endured, about the people he hadn't been able to save.

"I'm not a kid anymore," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I'm not asking you to carry this for me. I'm asking you to trust me."

Maverick's shoulders slumped, his exhaustion evident. He looked at her, his expression a mixture of resignation and unspoken fear. "It's not about trust, Alexa," he said quietly. "It's about the fact that I'm human. And as much as I want to believe you'll come back, I've seen what this world can do. I've seen it take the best of us."

She stood there, her heart breaking as she watched the man who had always seemed invincible look so small, so vulnerable. "I don't want to fight with you," she said softly, her voice wavering.

"Neither do I," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'd rather fight with you here, now, than have to live with myself if something happens to you out there."

The room felt suffocating, the silence between them thick with everything neither of them could say. Finally, Alexa let out a shaky breath. "I need to think," she said, turning toward the stairs.

Maverick didn't stop her. He just nodded, his gaze falling to the floor as she walked away. "Goodnight, kid," he murmured, though she wasn't sure he meant for her to hear.

She paused at the bottom of the staircase, glancing back at him. He looked older than she'd ever seen him, his head bowed, his hands gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping him upright. "Goodnight, Dad," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

She climbed the stairs slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time she reached the top, her legs felt like lead. She pushed open the door to her childhood bedroom and stepped inside, closing it softly behind her.

The room hadn't changed much. The walls were still painted the pale blue she'd picked out as a teenager, the shelves lined with books and knick-knacks she'd collected over the years. But everything felt different now, like she was looking at a snapshot of a life that no longer fit.

She sat on the edge of her bed, running a hand through her hair as she stared at the floor. The weight of the conversation downstairs pressed heavily on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She'd always known Maverick cared—of course, he cared—but tonight, it was different. Tonight, she saw the depth of his fear, his love, and the burden he carried.

Her gaze drifted to the small desk in the corner of the room, where a picture frame stood. She got up and walked over to it, picking up the photo. It was a shot of her and Ice, taken years ago. She was grinning, her aviators perched on her nose, while he stood beside her with that rare, quiet smile of his.

Tears welled in her eyes as she traced a finger over the glass. "You'd tell me to go," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You'd tell me I was ready."

But Ice wasn't here to say those words, and Maverick was. And Maverick didn't want her to go.

She set the picture back down and sat on the floor, her back against the wall. For a long time, she just sat there, the house quiet around her. She could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs, the creak of the old floorboards as Maverick moved around, probably cleaning up or trying to keep himself busy.

Her thoughts were a whirlwind, her emotions a tangled mess. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, staring at nothing, before exhaustion finally took over. She climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up around her as she closed her eyes.

But sleep didn't come easily. The weight of the mission, of Maverick's words, and of her own fears kept her awake long into the night.

🛩️🛩️🛩️

AUTHORS NOTE !

ok . . . this is kinda a sad chapter, sorry.

anyways, idk how i feel about this chapter (i literally say that about every chapter) but i tried my best!

also guys, i'm sooo exited for christmas !!!!