automatic stop, bradley bradshaw

forty-eight.

SKYE HONESTLY WASN'T PARTICULARLY USED TO LOSS. she had grown up distanced from her mother, and with grandparents on her father's side already long gone. because of this, she'd been lucky enough to grow up without losing any of the people closest to her. when her mother died, she didn't even know how to process it. 

truthfully, she assumed that she'd just blocked it out, like she did with a lot of her trauma. the loss of her mother felt fake even when she was in her late twenties and turning thirty. she oftentimes didn't even think of herself as someone who had ever had a mother, since she hadn't been close to the woman even before her death.

skye didn't know what someone was supposed to do when they were grieving. she hadn't ever been one to struggle with coping mechanisms, but she also didn't often have much to cope with.

she was thankful for this, of course. keeping her group of friends small (literally just katia and maybe a couple others in their squadron) helped her minimize the drama and stress in her life as much as possible. given her career pathway, any amount of stress relief was openly welcomed and greatly appreciated. 

but now that skye had found herself falling in love, it seemed that the drama wouldn't end. specifically, rooster was dramatic. of course, she still loved him despite of it. but he was likely the most dramatic person she'd ever met. he had a tendency of starting unnecessary fights and arguments, specifically with hangman. that was a whole different story.

regardless, skye was experiencing a lot more stress than she'd allowed herself to feel in the past.. ten (fifteen?) years of her life. and she honestly didn't know how to do anything about it, so she decided the best solution was to merely avoid it and hope for the best. not a good move. 

her lack of knowledge on what to do about her grief and stress was what landed her on her bed, by herself, her chest hurting from her sobs. her throat was burning from how hard she'd been crying, and she'd forgotten that feeling altogether. skye hadn't cried this much, she didn't think, since high school, when she'd still let things affect her. before she'd gotten more closed off.

skye still felt like the world was crushing underneath her. when she'd been in cyclone's office, that's all it felt like. the ground was simply giving way beneath her feet. she kept replaying it all in her head. 

she could see katia before she even got to the office. the blonde had already been escorted from cyclone's office, and some other admiral was putting a hand on her back to comfort her. skye couldn't tell what her expression was at first, but she then noticed katia's shoulders heaving in a sob. that was when she already knew.

nothing in her wanted to believe that it was true. even when maverick walked into the room, tears in his eyes, his arms wrapping around her. even when her father squeezed her shoulders through his hug and said, "ice is gone", she didn't believe it. 

it just couldn't be true, skye didn't think. iceman was immortal, to her. he had always been so present in her life, had always been the best at giving advice. he'd always shown her and everyone around her with nothing but kindness. had been to her father what katia was to her, had been everything she had aspired to grow into. 

there was no possible way that he could be gone. and so, skye shook her head. "no. he's not." 

that was when she started crying, her face pressed against maverick's shoulder. the man only hugged his daughter tighter, his eyes squeezing shut in some sort of remorse. he didn't say anything, which she appreciated. there wasn't anything to say.

when the father and daughter left the empty room, the hallway was completely vacant with no katia in sight. skye walked into the lot to find their shared car still in its normal spot. "she got a ride home with one of the admirals." maverick said. "they didn't want her driving."