Chapter 3: Blood on the tarmac

Now over three months into the program, first solo's successfully behind them, the trainee's might have been forgiven for thinking things would relax a little.

So not the case.

As summer hit in Cold Lake the pressure rose along with the temperature. On the ground it cleared a hundred degrees ... up in the air, enclosed in the airtight bubble that passed for a cockpit, it felt ten times worse.

Everyone was sweating ... in the heat and under the stress of taking piloting an F-18 to a new level ... from plane to weapon ... from solo to formation flying.

More than one instructor told them that the most intense, high pressure stage of the training program was learning to fly in formation. Flying a plane solo – a lone bird in the sky – was one thing. Now they had to learn to fly in conjunction with at least one other plane which required a whole new set of skills.

If any trainee had a weakness now was the time to fix it, before it became something that would spell the untimely end of their careers.

"You're a solid flier Lorne," Major Baker said at one of Evan's regular review sessions. "More than solid ... but I'm wondering about your Achilles heel ... this early in a career in the Hornet everybody has one. For Jones it's landings. For Merlin it's rushing. I haven't seen yours yet but I know it's there."

"What about you Sir?" Evan asked, curiosity and the need to redirect the conversation both driving him. "Did you have an Achilles heel?"

"I suspect mine was the same as yours son," Baker said, not letting himself be distracted. "I've read your file Evan," he added, expecting that to be explanation enough.

Evan's eyes shot up to meet his instructors ... his pulse ramping up a notch as he considered the implications of that statement. "Ah ... how far back does that go Sir?" he asked weakly.

"All the way," Baker replied kindly. "You've worked hard to overcome what anyone would acknowledge as being personally difficult for you. Flying formation is about control and you've got that in spades. Don't make this any different in your head. It's not."

"No Sir," Evan tried to keep himself expressionless even as his emotions surged. "The past is the past," he reminded himself.

Major Baker looked at him for a moment, perhaps expecting Evan to say more. When he didn't, Baker let out a breath that might have been disappointment, before nodding. "If you're having difficulties, you come to me," he said firmly. "No burying it under the carpet because that's the kind of thing that'll only end in disaster."

"Yes Sir," Lorne all but snapped a salute, his tone was so brisk and ... military.

"Dismissed," Baker finally let him off the hook, his expression thoughtful.

Evan jumped up and barely restrained himself from hurrying out of the room. It seemed that even doing his training across the border wasn't far enough away to escape the events he didn't want to talk about ... not that he'd ever really tried to escape.

His father ... what had happened to him so many years ago ... was a part of Lorne. It defined him in many respects; Evan knew that. But flying ... and in particular flying the F-18 to its fullest capacity was what he wanted to do. What he needed to do. And he'd let nothing stand in his way, especially not his own weaknesses.

oOo

Formation flying for combat had been around since World War 2. One pilot alone in the sky with a blind spot on his tail was vulnerable. Two pilots, each watching out for the other, weren't. In modern flight - in an F-18 going 400 miles per hours with rear view mirrors that might as well not have been installed they were so ineffective - it was even more the case.

Everyone wanted to be the lead ... the guy running the show up in the air. But to get there they had to prove themselves as wingers first. A winger's job was to watch the leads tail – his 'six' – to maintain visual and to take his cues from them alone.

As with every new phase of training, the rookies were talking about it days before they actually had to do it.

"Anyone not flown formation in some form?" Neil asked, the boys all gathered around one of the Mess tables for dinner for once. Usually at least one of them decided even the small amount of time required to sit down and eat was too much, skipping meals in favour of studying and eating on the run.

"I've only done it a few times," Cade admitted. "And only in the CT15 Hawk."

"That's plenty," Marcus pointed out. "Anything's gonna seem pitiful compared to doing formation in a Hornet anyway."

"True," John agreed. "My mate – the guy who did the program two years ago – said you can't be prepared for how big and scary another Hornet looks when you're staring at it's under carriage from 15 feet away."

"The F-16 would be similar though, wouldn't it Evan?" Drew asked curiously.

"I guess, but the Falcon's not as twitchy as the Hornet," Lorne explained. "Getting into position is one thing – making it look smooth is another – and being comfortable that close to another plane is a whole other ball game."

"Did you do much formation work?" Cade asked.

"Not really," Evan admitted. "Not much call for formation flying in high speed research."

"But you have done some though, right?" Cade persisted.

"Yeah I've done it," Lorne replied. "To be honest it's not my favourite part of flying but it doesn't have to be. You just have to get it done."

"Kind of worrying when they tell you the first mission objective is to not hit the other guy," Paul pointed out.

"Yeah," Drew laughed. "Makes it sound a lot more difficult when they put it that way."

The others made various comments in agreement before the conversation shifted on to other topics. Evan zoned out, eyes on a dinner he wasn't seeing as he replayed that conversation with Major Baker. He had no doubt the Major's eyes would be firmly fixed on him during their first formation flight, no doubt looking for any evidence of that Achilles heel he'd talked about. Not that it would mean Lorne would fail the course if he showed it – he'd have to explain it though, explain himself and that was a place Evan didn't want to go.

"You okay?" Drew asked quietly, the rest of their group not noticing as the conversation continued to flow around them.

"Huh?" Evan snapped back to the present, blinking a couple of times before he realised what he'd done. "Sure – just tired," he dismissed Drew's concern lightly.

"Sure," Drew returned sceptically.

"I gotta get back to the books," Lorne stood up abruptly. "Boys," he nodded to the table at large, taking his leave before anyone could protest.

oOo

First formation flights were usually one plane with trainee and instructor and a second with two fully qualified pilots in attendance. Lorne, composed and calm, suited up for his first mission with steady purpose.

"Ready?" Baker asked, arriving already suited up.

"Yes Sir," Lorne replied confidently. Flight plans had been lodged and Evan had studied up on everything that would be required of him, repeating things over and over until he could recite it cold. The mission had to go well ... there was no other option.

"Let's go then," Baker led the way from the office out across the tarmac to his plane.

Pre-flight checks that had taken Evan twenty minutes the first time were now taking fifteen ... still three times as long as a seasoned F-18 pilot but well up there as far as the rest of the trainees were concerned.

Evan never tried to rush ... even that day when the motivation was there ... the experienced pilots in the other plane were already set to go while he was still only half way through his checks. Ignoring that, ignoring everything except the litany of checks running on automatic in his head, Lorne completed all the requirements and was soon doing his first synchronised take off, another plane beside him feeling a hell of a lot closer than was really comfortable.

"Let's park her off the wing," Major Baker requested as soon as they were at 20,000 feet, doing 375 miles per hour.

"Off the wing," Lorne reiterated, powering forward until they were beside the other jet.

"Take us closer," Baker encouraged.

Lorne gradually moved the F-18 in towards the other plane, maintaining equivalent speed and trying his damndest to make it as smooth as possible. Judging how close he actually was wasn't as hard as might be expected. There was a formula and all he had to do was follow it ... missile tip at the end of his right wing lined up with the maple leaf emblem printed on the side of the plane ... check. Pull forward until flush with the burner cans on the jet beside him ... check. And presto ... they were now flying within fifteen feet of the other plane.

It felt close ... really, really, close. All the muscles in Evan's forearms and lower legs were tight as he controlled the stick, holding position until he was told otherwise.

"Relax Lorne," Baker said quietly. "You're there."

"Yes Sir," Lorne replied, actively trying to do as ordered. He held the off wing pattern for moments longer before Baker finally spoke again.

"Move her to line astern," he requested the next pattern without commenting on the completion of the last.

"Line astern," Lorne acknowledged, gratefully dropping back from the side of the other jet. Reducing speed just enough to be able to get into position at the rear of their companion F-18, Evan then pulled forward gradually.

The stick in his hand shook with the turbulence of the other jets engine blast ... his chair shaking a good thing because it meant he was in the right place.

"Hold it steady," Baker urged.

Lorne found the line astern pattern easier in some respects even though the effects of flying so close to the back end of the other plane were so much more obvious.

"Drop it back Lorne," Baker finally instructed.

Line astern pattern completed without incident, Lorne did as instructed, returning the plane to a more distant side by side flight position.

The last part of the days mission was to maintain relative position while the lead plane did a flat turn. Lorne's heart rate kicked up as he prepared for the final sequence. The hand he'd relaxed around the stick tightened unconsciously when the jet beside him dropped its right wing, presenting Evan with an in your face view of the undercarriage. It loomed beside him, bigger and scarier than he'd imagined it would be. His instincts said pull away, create distance ... it was a natural urge he had to fight hard to resist. Keeping with the lead plane was actually easier the closer you stuck ... it was harder to follow the line if you dropped too far back.

"Okay, take us back to base," Baker said when they were done with the turn.

"Yes Sir," Lorne replied, gratefully bringing the plane around and taking a heading that would have them there within minutes.

Usually the flights were too short ... he was never ready to land, always wishing for just a few moments more. Today was different ... Evan wanted to land it and tick all the boxes he needed to – desperate for some alone time so he could process the days experience and then put it away. He was counting on the first one being the hardest, on it getting easier the more formation flying he did in the Hornet.

"Well done Evan," Baker said once they were back on the ground and walking away from the aircraft.

"Really Sir?" Lorne was surprised. He'd been sure what he'd been thinking and feeling had translated somehow into his performance in the air.

"Yes," Baker grinned. "Let's debrief now – you can tell me how you think it went."

Nodding, Evan followed his instructor into one of the lecture rooms, watching quietly as the other man loaded the HUD recording and began the playback.

Seeing his performance, hearing himself calmly responding and reporting his actions was strangely reassuring. He sounded in control. That was good, right?

The tape came to an end and Baker switched off the overhead before coming to prop himself up on the table in front of Evan. "Overall that was a superior performance Evan," he said simply. "Your prior flight experience came through out there – it was a lot smoother than the average rookie."

Superior was the top grade a trainee pilot could get ... it meant you'd had a perfect run. Evan had expended so much energy worrying about not revealing his 'issues' with formation flying that he hadn't allowed himself to consider how it would feel to actually do well.

"Superior?" he repeated stupidly.

"It didn't seem that way to you?" Baker asked interestedly.

"Not really Sir," Evan admitted. "I've done a little formation flying before but ... well I guess it won't surprise you to learn that I never really enjoyed it." He grinned for the first time that day. "I didn't think today was a disaster but I was too focussed on not fucking it up to notice how well it was going."

"Well, there's hope for you yet," Baker said in amusement. "We might just have you enjoying it before we're done with you."

"I hope so Sir," Evan let more emotion that he'd intended show with that statement. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he continued. "I don't suppose I can ask you to keep this one just on the records Sir?" he asked hopefully.

"Worried about being in the limelight again?" Evan almost groaned at the amused expression on his instructors face.

"Not exactly," he tried to explain. "Maybe its more the unfair advantage ... I'm not exactly a 'rookie' in the true sense of the word, am I Sir?"

"Having flown the hell out of an F-16 does give you an edge," Baker agreed thoughtfully. "Fine – this time I'll put the results in your record and leave it at that. Next time though, assuming you continue with the superior flying, it'll have to be a public one." The Major made eye contact with Evan as he continued. "You're working just as hard as the other rookies Lorne – maybe not in the same areas – and not in ways any of them would be aware of. Don't down play that."

"No Sir," Evan said awkwardly, resisting the urge to squirm in his seat.

"Okay – we're done here," Baker said. "Go – just don't hide for too long."

"Thank you Sir," Lorne got up quickly and strode from the room, trying not to worry about the fact that Major Baker was beginning to know him too well. Man, he really needed to get a look at what was written in his file.

oOo

"We missed you last night," Drew told Lorne at breakfast the next day.

"Yeah – sorry," Evan replied unapologetically. "Had some stuff to work on. Sleep to catch up on."

"But your flight went okay, right?" Drew persisted.

"It was fine," Lorne returned. "What about you – how'd it go?"

"Mine was fine too," Drew's expression didn't match his tone. Evan frowned, looking at the rest of his class, taking real notice for the first time that morning. The air of doom hung almost visibly over them and Lorne's stomach dropped.

"What happened?" he asked seriously, seeing that he'd missed something big while he'd been off smoothing out his emotional edges. Looking around again he realised that one of their number was missing. "Where's Paul?"

"In with the review board," John explained. "None of us know the full story ... just that something didn't go well yesterday."

"Bad enough for them to take it up official channels," Marcus added.

"Shit," Lorne muttered. That didn't sound good ... things only went to the flight review board when disciplinary action was being considered. "He didn't say anything last night?"

"He went missing too," Drew's tone wasn't accusatory but still Evan felt a little guilty.

"If I'd known something had gone down I would have forgone the extra sleep," he said.

"Not much you could have done," John pointed out.

Everyone fell silent, the mood at the table glum. No one wanted to think about it but the fact was that most courses had pilots dropping out for whatever reason. Usually it was because they couldn't master one of the basic elements every fighter pilot had to conquer but every now and then a pilot would be failed from the course for making serious mistakes.

Paul rejoined the group later in the morning, not saying much even when John questioned him. They fell back into their routine but something felt off ... they were all waiting for the other shoe to drop and two days later it did.

It wasn't Paul who told them ... by the time Lorne and the others found out he was already halfway to Vancouver. It was breakfast again when Major Baker joined them.

"I need to let you guys know that the review board revoked Captain Merlin's flight status," he said, his tone grimmer than any of them had seen previously. "He's been failed from the training program ... all of you will need to report to training room 6 for a complete debrief of the situation. 0900 hours."

"Yes Sir," Evan echoed his class mates, exchanging glances with Drew as they watched the Major walk away.

"Paul didn't say anything to any of you?" John asked.

"No – nothing," Drew spoke first, Lorne nodding his agreement.

"I asked him specifically if he was okay," Evan added. "He told me not to worry about it. Couldn't get any details out of him."

"Sounds like that's about to change," Cade muttered weakly.

"Yes," John agreed. "Come on guys – let's go get this done."

Half an hour later Lorne sat in one of the front row seats in the training room next to Drew, listening to Captain Reed – Paul's instructor – discussing the flight as they watched the HUD recording.

"Captain Merlin deliberately skipped a number of key safety checks pe-flight," Reed explained. "Any one of them could have resulted in a fatal failure of the planes systems. He then compounded that problem by powering to 83% on taxiway Delta."

Evan winced - that was well beyond the accepted power levels for taxi speeds. What could Paul have been thinking?!

"When questioned, Captain Merlin advised that he'd skipped some of the pre-flight checks in order to cut down on the time taken to be ready for takeoff," Reed continued. "He sped on the taxiway for the same reason. The mission was completed successfully but deliberate decisions to circumvent safety protocols can't be condoned."

"The review board looked not only at this mission but at Captain Merlin's record during the program," Major Baker spoke next. "He's been red ticked for rushing more than once in the past ... it's a pattern of behaviour we can't enable. These are mistakes than could result in the loss of lives, not only Captain Merlin's but his instructor's as well. For this reason the board decided to cease Merlin's training."

Evan frowned ... Paul had never admitted to being red ticked, even during the weekly officers meeting. Lorne had known he'd been told more than once about not rushing but that was it. Being red ticked was serious – it meant your instructors comments regarding whatever mistake you'd made were written into your permanent record in glaring red ink. The instructors called it a red tick but the pilots called it blood on the page. That said it all really – too much blood and you were out.

"He just left?" Cade in particular seemed visibly upset by the news.

"Captain Merlin was given the opportunity to stay at Cold Lake," Baker revealed. "With the slight chance of being accepted back into the program at a later date."

Lorne's eyebrow rose – that wasn't something he'd expected to hear.

"He declined," Baker said simply. "That as well as the chance to make his farewells. He was rightly concerned that this set back would affect his classmates. You all need to learn the lesson this example provides you with and then move on. Captain Merlin was quite adamant that nothing affect the success of anyone in this room."

There were a few more questions before the class was dismissed with the reiteration that they must all refocus on their training. Evan's thoughts did dwell on Paul for a time but the beginning of formation flying was accompanied by an even heavier workload. They were all handed 100+ pages of formation flying regulations with the instruction to learn them all for a test the following day.

By the time they were done with that and the next stack of material took its place, the emotional edge over what had happened to Paul had diminished. None of the class would forget the guy who'd executed cheap magic tricks at the breakfast table almost without thinking while telling them about his lastest conquest. They'd lived in each other's pockets for three months and that wasn't a bond that just disappeared. But they had to go on. If it had happened earlier in the course they would have gotten a replacement ... instead they were down to six men with two thirds of the course still to go.

oOo

"Captain!" Evan looked up from the flight plan he was about to lodge to see Captain Riley walking towards him.

"Crap," he muttered, looking for a plausible get away and not finding it. Since his actions the night of their first F-18 flight he'd studiously avoided Steph Riley, knowing full well that she knew he was avoiding her but doing it just the same.

"Captain," he greeted her congenially.

"Not running away today?" Steph went straight into attack mode.

"Ah ...," Evan glanced around, noting the lack of audience, and sighed. "Listen – I should have apologised for my behaviour ages ago. You put me on the spot but that's no excuse."

"I'm not looking for an apology Evan," Steph smiled, looking a lot friendlier as she relaxed a little.

"You're not?" Evan frowned in confusion.

"No," Steph almost rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I know you rookies don't get a lot of time off but I was thinking maybe next time you do ... sometime soon ... we could have a drink."

"Together?" Evan hated to look like an imbecile but the whole conversation was so not what he'd expected that he was floundering on unfamiliar ground.

"Yes together," Steph insisted, the unspoken "what are you, an idiot?" still pretty obvious.

"Just so we're clear here," Evan persisted, "you're asking me out ... on a date?"

"So it seems," blue eyes sparkling, Steph laughed. "Kind of feels like pulling teeth though so I can't be sure."

"Funny," Evan said with a straight face. His mind raced as he considered the situation he'd unwittingly landed himself in. Steph Riley was ... Cade's description came back to him loudly ... hot. She was hot ... maybe a couple of inches shorter than his own 5 ft 9, athletic but feminine, with dark hair that really made her blue eyes stand out vividly. Realising suddenly that he was staring, Evan looked away, flushing slightly. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea," he said quickly.

"It's a drink Evan, not a marriage proposal," Steph didn't give up easily. "Live a little."

"Ah ...," Evan hesitated. He wasn't usually inept with women but he didn't usually consider fellow officers as fair game either. Getting seriously involved with someone wasn't on his agenda ... didn't mean he hadn't enjoyed female company from time to time but the situation was always fully understood by both parties. He was a healthy, red blooded male, not a monk, but he also wasn't given to casual encounters either. It was a difficult line to walk – not one he'd ever considered walking with someone he could run into at work the next morning. Still, one drink couldn't hurt, right?

"Okay – one drink - soon," Lorne finally decided.

"Friday night," Steph grinned. "1900 hours – don't be late."

"No Ma'am," Evan replied, watching with a faint smirk as she turned and strode away again, pausing at the door to glance back at him with a wave before she disappeared outside.

"Shit," he muttered, shaking his head. "Bad idea Evan – bad idea."

"What are you muttering to yourself about?" Drew appeared at Evan's shoulder suddenly.

"Don't do that!" Lorne shot him an exasperated look, his heart racing.

"Sorry," Drew was unrepentant. "What's a bad idea?"

"Drinks with Captain Riley," Lorne admitted awkwardly.

"You've got a date with Steph Riley?" Drew asked incredulously.

"Hey, don't act so surprised," Evan protested.

"I'm not surprised at her," Drew chuckled. "I just never thought you'd get distracted by a woman."

"I'm not distracted," Evan insisted. "She put me on the spot and I couldn't say no – not after that stunt I pulled."

"Sure," Drew laughed outright. "You're just being a gentleman here ... no interest in her 'package' at all, right?!"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Evan retorted. "Not all of us have your approach to the opposite sex ... Easy."

"Well – don't be too nice or you'll end up married with six kids," Drew didn't take offence.

"Whatever," Lorne didn't bother saying goodbye – leaving his friend standing in the corridor he headed for the desk to post his flight plan.

oOo

From close quarters they moved into long range formations ... from two planes in the air at one time to four. Patterns were still controlled by the lead plane and then mirrored by the second pair. It might not sound that difficult until you factored in formation flying under true combat conditions where everyone had to maintain radio silence. They flew close enough to be seen, but far enough away to make it a challenge at times.

How did four planes communicate without the pilots being able to speak? Keeping visual was crucial ... the winger had to spot the lead, wait for the appropriate cue, and the follow. Something as simple as changing direction was a carefully orchestrated sequence of movements. The lead turned first, towards his winger. The winger would see the turn, waiting until the other guys nose was pointing at him to start his own turn. The lead would cross under the winger, the rear pair doing exactly the same thing until they all ended up back in the basic square configuration again.

Evan didn't have a problem with long range formations; he'd been up a few times since the first close formation flight and relaxed just as he'd hoped. Long range didn't carry the same emotional punch for him either ... he carried out his first mission without incident, eager to get out there and do it again.

The rest of his class were similarly successful, with only one incident making it to the next officers review. Cade had lost visual on his lead ... that wasn't the mistake though. The mistake had been in failing to let his lead know that he was flying blind – that the lead was vulnerable to attack. It had only been a matter of a few seconds but in combat that was enough to see the end of both planes.

Cade took the red tick as his due and they all learned a valuable lesson. Major Collins reinforced it by telling them none of them would be able to maintain visual 100% of the time ... communication was the key.

The topic fit in well with the theoretical material they were studying on CRM – cockpit resource management. It was widely understood that the primary cause of most aviation accidents was human error. Failures of interpersonal communication, leadership and decision making in the cockpit. Along with reams of notes on the subject they had to read about and watch footage of prior incidents ... specific to the F-18 so they could understand it at the personal level. It was real and the consequences were also real.

oOo

And then it was Friday night and Lorne was regretting his momentary lapse of weakness even as he made his way to the recreation rooms for that drink with Captain Riley.

"Evan," she greeted him with a teasing smile. "I thought for sure you'd come up with some excuse not to turn up."

"Really?" he didn't admit that he'd been very tempted to do just that. Sitting across from her, he glanced around the room, noting the glances they were getting. "I don't know whether to be amused or insulted by that."

"You were pretty obviously reluctant," Steph said more seriously. "You don't have to stay you know ... I'd understand."

"We're here now," Evan said lightly. "Might as well make generating the new rumours I can see forming right now worthwhile. What can I get you?"

"Just a beer," Steph replied.

Nodding, Evan rose and gave their order, bringing two beers back to the table and sitting again.

"You like it here - in Cold Lake?" Steph began with the basic small talk.

"Sure, especially now it's a little warmer," Evan replied. "Feels more like California."

"That's where you were before?" Evan nodded. "They don't have F-18 training programs in the states?"

"They do," Lorne shrugged. "This is the one I got invited to ... it's not like you can say no hoping you'll get another one down the track."

"I guess not," Steph smiled.

She had a way about her that had Evan relaxing as they talked about the base, her joint role assisting the course director as well as managing the ongoing training needs of those assigned permanently to the base providing a point of discussion that had Evan learning a lot about how the base operated.

Steph had been around the base for a couple of years and had plenty of stories to tell too ... they were laughing about one involving the maintenance crew's creative way of bagging a pilot with a knack for causing them considerable work when Evan realised how late it was.

"Man, I have to get back," he said reluctantly.

"Me too," Steph agreed, standing and holding out a hand to him.

He let her pull him up ... they'd had more than just that one drink but neither of them was anywhere near drunk. "Walk me to my room," she said firmly, keeping his hand and urging him to move with her.

"O-kay," Evan replied, amused at her take charge approach.

They walked in silence across the base to the housing section, Steph stopping when they arrived at her door.

"This is me," she said unnecessarily, turning to look up at him. "Thanks for the drink Evan ... and the company."

"You're welcome," he smiled as he added "it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Very funny," she smacked his arm lightly, laughing when he gave an exaggerated grunt of pain in return. "You're an ass," she told him teasingly.

"But you like me anyway," Evan teased back.

"I do," Steph replied, suddenly serious. Before he could step back, she'd put a hand to either side of his face and urged him down to receive her kiss.

He could have resisted.

But he didn't.

Instead he kissed her back ... and when the first one ended he initiated the next one, this time backing her up against her own door and pressing his body into hers.

Her response was immediate and clear – she gave as good as she got, making her position on where it seemed they were heading very clear.

"Evan," she moaned, wrapping her arms around him and holding on tight. "More."

"Yes Ma'am," he whispered, intent on following that command to the best of his ability. A small part of his brain was trying to alert him to all the reasons he'd been reluctant to go down this kind of road with a fellow officer but the way Steph was running her hands up his back ... under his shirt ... completely drowned that out.

Fumbling their way inside they continued to kiss, the room illuminated only by the moonlight reflecting through the uncurtained window.

Evan did have a moment of chivalry when she broke away, breathlessly inviting him to stay before pulling him back in again.

"Steph," he grabbed her hands and held them tightly as he urged her to look at him. "This can't -,"

She pulled a hand free and pressed it to his lips, stopping him from finishing. "No strings," she said firmly. "I'm no more interested in settling down than you are. That doesn't mean I can't enjoy this," she said openly. "It doesn't always have to mean everything, does it?"

"No," Evan agreed. Taking her hand again he raised them both to his lips and kissed them. "No it doesn't ... as long as you're sure. We can't take it back in the morning."

"I won't want to," Steph said firmly. "I'm sure ... so stop talking and kiss me already."

"You're so bossy," he said in a low tone, kissing the protest from her lips before she could fully voice it.

"You wouldn't be here if I wasn't," she broke the kiss to remind him.

"Good point," Evan replied. Informed decision made, he let himself be drawn into the familiar ritual that was at the same time unfamiliar with a new partner. Aware of how much the intimate act would reveal about him, he took command, controlling even as he let the passion have free reign.

Evan didn't see the world as black and white ... it was shades of colours that sometimes complimented and sometimes clashed. The military was a classic example ... men flying planes in the name of peace - except those planes were loaded down with weapons that could deliver massive destruction without the pilot ever looking into the faces of the victims. To live in that world you had to understand that everything was a balance ... a choice between positive and negative depending on the given day. The brand of sex he was engaging in was the same ... the most intimate of acts undertaken with someone he really didn't know that well ... the intimacy of strangers. Did that make him a hypocrite? Was the answer different because his partner didn't want the greater intimacy implied any more than he did?

Back in his own room in the early hours of morning, lying awake staring at his ceiling, Evan was no closer to an answer than he'd ever been. The only thing he was sure of was that anything more serious wasn't for him. He'd seen his Mom devastated ... broken ... lost without his Dad. He'd been the innocent bystander, he and his sister, caught up in the aftermath of the negative side of real relationships conducted in real life. Feelings like that had consequences he wasn't willing to participate in.

Rolling over, Evan buried his head in his pillow, determined to get some sleep. Like every day at 410 squadron, the next would be a busy one. He needed to have his wits about him to stay in the game.

Authors Note:

I have the basic training plane (for pilots wanting to fly jets) for the Canadian Air force being the CT15 Hawk - it's the plane listed now but I couldn't confirm how long that's been the case. I've embellished a fair bit in this chapter, adding things like the CRM from research independent of Jetstream. Still, most of the good stuff, including the fact that students have failed for the reasons Paul Merlin was failed for – one of the students in the show almost met that end himself and was just lucky something else happened to save him from that – came from the show. I used wikipedia for anything else that doesn't sound like it could have come from Jetsteam. It probably doesn't need to be said but I'll say it anyway - there is no kissing in Jetstream.