Helpless
An Agents of SHIELD fanfic by Aisling Yinyr Ngaio
She hated feeling helpless. Hated hiding behind comms and computer terminals while others got to run around cracking bones, disabling opponents, and feeling the exhilaration of the adrenaline field work gave.
There was a reason she transferred to administration when she retired from the field. She knew that, if she ever went out of the safe cocoon of her new office, she would eventually step back into the active field roster in no time, despite her professed intentions to leave it all behind.
Yet, no matter how much she disliked field ops now, she hated incompetence even more, always did, always would. Even if it wasn't the faults of these infants that they couldn't match up to her high standards (which wasn't to say that they weren't good, just not as good as she expected her potential successors to be), still she chafed and sniffed disdainfully at their ''subpar" performance every time she classified yet another case report from certain agents with high potential, detached and distant from the on-site urgency and tension of the actual mission.
And if the real reason behind her return to the field barely a month after her sudden transfer to SHIELD-616 was that Melinda May was a borderline OCD control freak, nobody was foolish enough to even whisper it behind her back, the same way nobody, not even her contemporaries, dared to comment on her sticking to her daily regimented training schedule to remain combat ready despite her administrative position. lf there were SHIELD agents who still found that paradox incomprehensible, the Helicarrier attack before the Battle of New York certainly succeeded in camouflaging the truth behind Melinda's discipline.
She liked it. Loved the physical aspect of field ops as much as she now hated it. Secretly enjoyed the fine tremor of fearful respect in junior agents whenever they discuss the legend of the Cavalry, even if the memories of that last field mission brought her nothing but pain. Gained unholy pleasure from the surprised looks of her opponents as she took them down, systematically and clinically, the price of underestimating her. Loved meeting foes who knew of and could match her true mettle - competition was so scarce on home ground - reminding her that there was always a way to best her in this world of superheroes and technological advances.
That self-same discipline helped greatly, therefore, when it emerged that the new team consisted of two, and later, three non-combatants out of the six-man team. Melinda couldn't quite help the mental eye roll when she was debriefed about her new assignment and teammates. She could not quite blame Phil either that she was always accidentally involved in crossfires during babysitting gigs, because she'd always understood the risks of her job with this international organisation. But she knew from the moment he excluded her from a field extraction mission that this was no accident. Her discomfort at a possible involvement in a third field situation within three weeks was curiously unabated when he made it clear that he'd taken her silent treatment of the week before seriously, and only increased with each nerve-wracking moment her three teammates were involved in a situation that was turning from bad to worse, while she could only wait and worry and pray they'd survive.
She couldn't quite bring herself to call him out on his manipulation though - he'd always been a crafty little bastard anyway - not if it gave her the push to begin overcoming her irrational dislike of field work when, if she was honest with herself, she missed it so. Being able to stop regretting the what-could-have-beens and start being more to the team than "just the pilot", in the way she was afraid to and yet yearned for since Phil cornered her in her office cubicle the day her transfer came through.
- Finis -