The pieces of my puzzle.

Two.

TW: slight PTSD and flashbacks.
(Azara's POV)

The team were celebrating the day's work, when I saw the bogey coming from my left. "Bogey, incoming!" I shouted, trying to alert the team. It locked onto an aircraft and launched its missile. As the missile soared towards its target, I realized who the plane belonged to. The person was wearing a familiar red helmet.

Rooster.

I flew in between them, blocking the missile's path. And suddenly it was as if everything was in slow motion.

I could vaguely make out my teammates screaming my name. I could feel the impact of the missile, hitting the side of my jet, throwing me sideways.

"Eject, Eject!!"I could still hear the desperate calls from my friends as I reached over my head and tried to grab the ejection handles but, as soon as I lifted my arms a shooting pain shot through my upper body. I pushed through it and reached above my head and pulled the ejection handles.

I gasped as my whole body erupted in pain as the ejection system tried to shoot me out of the plane.

But instead of flying through the air, I felt my head crash into the canopy with an extreme amount of force. I cried out in pain as I heard my neck crack.

It was all a blur by then. The intense amount of pain spread throughout my body, my friends screaming and my vision blurring.

But through all the voices of my teammates, one stood out as I hit the canopy.

"Azara!!" Yelled Rooster. His voice filled with both panic and grief as he watched the event, that killed his father all those years ago, happen to me.

"Beep, Beep!!" All I could hear was the 'beep' of the jet's warning system.

"Beep! Beep!"

I jolted up in bed. Dripping wet from sweat and breathing heavily. I took a breath, trying to calm my racing heart and my heaving chest.

"It's just a dream, Az. Just a dream." I mumbled to myself. Trying to find something to ground me.

"Beep! Beep!" I reached over to my bedside table to switch off the alarm that had woken me up from the dream.

I sighed. "Today is the day."

I got up and got ready before I went downstairs to make myself some tea before my dad came to pick me up.

After I made my tea I sat on the couch, looking out the window. After a few minutes, my doorbell rang. "It's open!" I called towards the door.

I heard the door open and then footsteps coming towards me. I smiled as my dad's figure appeared in my view. He sat next to me and slung his arm around my shoulders in a side hug. "Hey dad." I greeted, as I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Hey kiddo." He replied, kissing the top of my head. After a few moments of silence he spoke. "You ready?" I nodded in reply.

Admiral Bates, had called us in for a meeting about a new mission. My dad was still a Captain. And I was also a Captain, I could choose to fly or instruct whenever I wanted. But I actually haven't flown since the accident. So I've been instructing for a year now and I'm enjoying it.

When we arrived at the office, we did all the usual formalities. But, when I saw the mission on the board, I knew that this definitely wasn't going to be easy.

"We have chosen you two to instruct on this mission, for a reason." Cyclone began. "Mr Mitchell, you were considered one of the best pilots in the world, with your unique style of teaching, flying, your previous experience with the Uranium mission, and your refusal to die or retire against all odds, makes you the best candidate for the job." Cyclone paused, taking a breath before continuing.

I glanced over at my father to see him suppressing a smile. I internally rolled my eyes at my dad for taking Cyclone's choice of words as praise.

"However," Cyclone continued. "You, Mr Mitchell, are a stubborn almost fifty year old man who won't listen to anyone, pulls reckless stunts, and refuses to die or retire against all odds." Cyclone signed, clearly frustrated with my father.

"So that is why we have brought Miss Mitchell in. That is, of course, not the only reason." He stated, switching his gaze to me as he spoke.

"You, Miss Mitchell, are an even better pilot than your father. Which makes you, by my standards, the best pilot in the world. You have a hefty reputation behind you and you make all female pilots proud."

I could feel my dad's gaze on me, a sense of pride radiating off of him.

"You also are one of the few people in the world who can somewhat control Mr Mitchell and that he actually listens to. You are already in an instructing position, so this is nothing new for you."

I smirked at the comment of my father and tried to hold back a giggle as Cyclone continued with his speech.

"You also have the element of surprise, since everyone is familiar with your title and accomplishments, but not your face or gender. You have a presence that reflects authority and have the ability to rein control in any situation. Therefore, you are the head instructor on this mission." He finished, leaning back in his chair.

I was slightly surprised by the new position but I didn't let it show.

"There are two stolen F-18's, in a hangar, in Russia. This mission requires two armed, trained pilots to be dropped off and to retrieve the stolen jet's on foot. The other two two-seaters, will patrol the area and keep watch. All four of the planes will then report back to base and that's it." He finished, making it sound so easy.

"You are trained in self-defense, including weapons use. Am I correct, Miss Mitchell?" He asked.

"You are correct, sir. I am assuming you want me to teach the pilots these skills?" I asked, raising a brow in mild curiosity.

"You assume correctly, I request that you teach the pilots basic self-defense, hand to-hand fighting and wielding of weapons."

"I accept your request on one condition, sir." I said, waiting a moment for a answer.

"Go on." He gestured his hand in the air as an indication to continue.

"I accept your offer on the condition that I choose the pilots. With the input of my father, of course." I added quickly, glancing at my dad, who had a small smile on his face.

"I think we can work with that." Cyclone replied. Standing as he shook both of our hands, before we left the office.