*Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Marvel universe & while I'd like to claim Michelle as mine, she really has taken on a life/personality of her own & I just write what she "tells" me to. Rated T for mild swearing and adult situations. Essentially nothing more than what you'd see in the films or comics. I'm trying to keep this as close to cannon as possible.

Chapter 10

Michelle sat heavily in the chair in her office, door solidly shut. One minute, Sample. You get one minute to get your head straight, and that's it.

The CO was gone, who knew where.

Coulson was dead, killed by Loki.

Loki and Thor were gone.

Her squadron was a shambles. They'd lost at least a third of their aircraft in the fight and multiple pilots had been wounded. Thank God none of them are dead.

Coulson's dead.

She dug the heels of her palms into her eye sockets relishing in the pressure. She couldn't afford to break down. Not right now. Not when the squadron needed her most.

She wasn't ready for command, but ready or not, her agents needed a leader.

Wiping her eyes and blowing her nose on a tissue, she gulped down some water and stood up.

Break time's over.

Steve jogged down toward the detention level. Though Stark hadn't told him that's where he was headed, it didn't take a really smart guy to figure it out. Steve had hardly known Coulson yet his death weighed on him, just like the deaths of any soldier under his command had in the past.

Memories of his best friend and fighting companion, Bucky, flashed through his head;the final memory of Bucky falling to his death from the train because Steve couldn't save him.

He could well imagine how Stark felt right now. Coulson seemed like the closest thing Stark had to a friend, and for someone who didn't let anyone in emotionally, losing him had to be absolutely devestating. Steve knew he probably couldn't "fix" this, but he could offer Stark a friendly ear.

Or at the very least someone to yell at.

Tablet in hand, Michelle strode down the corridor heading up the carrier deck to inspect and take inventory of their remaining aircraft. They needed to know which were still flight worthy and which needed a complete maintenance overhaul.

More than likely they all will. Who knows what kind of FOD there is?

It was job someone else could probably do, should probably do as the CO was still missing and not answering their calls, but the ready room was in the capable hands of Agent Sanchez, the MO was swamped down on the maintenance deck, and Michelle needed some fresh air and a distraction.

She glanced down at the tablet in front of her and swept a finger along the surface, scrolling through the damage report of each of the other known destroyed aircraft and frowned. This is bad bad bad!

"Oh, excuse me—"

"I'm so sorry—"

Michelle's tablet clattered to the ground and she looked up, knowing who she would see. She gave a sigh of relief as Steve stood before her, looking relatively unscathed, if in a bit of a hurry.

"Shellie!" He pulled her into a quick hug then released her, holding her at arms length. "You're okay!"

"Yes, but Coulson…" She bit her lip. Now was not the time to cry.

"I know." He pulled her into another hug.

Michelle banished the panicked "Captain America is hugging you!" thoughts from her mind and took comfort in his embrace. Friends hug. Especially when consoling each other over loss. This is totally okay. Absolutely nothing inappropriate about it!

He released her and she reluctantly pulled away.

"Are you okay?" She picked up her tablet and glanced at him surreptitiously. Steve appeared, for the most part, to be fine. Though there was an unfamiliar hardness in his eyes. Maybe Coulson's death had affected him more than he'd let on. Perhaps because he was one of the few people Steve actually knew in this day and age.

Steve shook his head. "Later."

"Yeah, later." Michelle nodded and ignored her pounding heart. It seemed it would forever be 'later' for them. And maybe that was for the best. It would force things to remain friendly.

"Well, I gotta go," they both said in unison, then smiled. Steve moved to Michelle's left at the same time she did, then to her right when she adjusted there as well.

Chuckling, he placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her past him. "I think we should save our dances for Ella's, don't you?"

"Definitely." Then, on impulse, Michelle kissed his cheek and he blushed, he honest to goodness blushed. "For luck. Wherever you're going next."

He gave her a goofy, lopsided smile then turned and jogged down the hall. Michelle spun on her heel and did the same. Idiot, you can't encourage him like that if you want to keep it just friends!

"Hey, Shellie."

She whirled around, heart suddenly racing again. Was he coming back to kiss her? Don't be stupid!

"Can you fly one of those hovering troop carriers?"

"You mean a quinjet?"

"Yeah those."

She gave him a bemused smile. "Fly, yes. Take off or land, no."

At his confused expression, she continued. "Flying's the easy part. That's why an autopilot can do it. It's the take off and especially the landing where the real skill comes in. Much like most any pilot, I'd love to claim I can handle any aircraft, and after some training, I totally could. But this isn't a T.V. show or a movie – a pilot can't just magically handle anything they get behind the stick of. I'm not qual'd on a quinjet and would more than likely crash it as anything else and that would end your trip in a real hurry." She cocked her head to the side. "What are you up to?"

He grinned broadly. "I'm going after the bastard that did this."

Smiling in return, she felt the dimple in her cheek form. "Good. See you in the field, Captain."

"Yes, ma'am!" Saluting smartly, he spun on his heels once more, and was gone.

She'd given two aircraft cursory checks and both seemed fine, though she still wanted a full maintenance inspection on each of them.

I need a full maintenance inspection on my head! She moved to the next surviving jet and gave it a long look without really seeing it.

What am I gonna do about Steve?

It was all fine and well to say she wasn't going to pursue any romantic entanglements with him, but whenever she saw him her heart took over and she behaved like an idiotic schoolgirl, practically throwing herself at him.

And it was clear he liked her as well, more than as a friend.

Yeah, but is that because I'm the first girl that's come by and shown any interest?

She walked up to the jet and swept her hand under the starboard wing before walking back toward empennage and eyeing the control surfaces there.

I know I'm not the only women to express interest in Steve. I can't be. I mean, just look at him. He's the total package. A complete gentleman and a hottie.

She frowned. He was also from the forties and probably looking for a woman to be subservient to him. To stay at home barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, waiting on him hand and foot.

But even as she thought it, she knew that wasn't the case. No, Steve's not like that. He's remarkably forward thinking for a guy from the past.

Even in this day and age Michelle still met with the occasional male chauvinist. In fact, the very first day in her first fleet squadron a male Marine, a fellow lieutenant, had walked right up to her and said "Women shouldn't in the Marine Corps and they certainly shouldn't be flying!"

She'd just smiled and shrugged saying, "Well, I'm here, so deal with it." But what'd she'd wanted to say was, "Assholes like you probably shouldn't be in the Marine Corps either, but just like opinions, everyone's got one. So there you go." But of course you never had a clever comeback when you needed it most.

Moving to the port side of the aircraft she blinked in surprise. Her CO was there, in full flight gear, helmet under his arm, getting ready to climb the ladder into the jet.

"Sir?" She jogged up to him. "Sir, where have you been? We needed you."

"In a briefing with higher, not that it's any of your concern." He motioned to the jet. "How does this bird check out?"

"Visually it's fine, Sir, but I wouldn't fly any of them right now. There's no way of knowing what kind of FOD the engines might have."

"Uh-huh, thanks." He donned his helmet and placed a hand on the ladder.

"Sir, what are you doing?"

"My job." He climbed up a step and Sample placed a staying hand on his arm.

"Sir, there are no flights scheduled—"

"This just came in." He climbed another step.

"Then why wasn't I notified? I'm the acting XO. Hell, while you were gone I was the acting CO."

"Well I am the CO and I don't need to brief you on everything." He tried to shake off her arm, but she gripped tighter. "Stay in your lane, Major." He jerked up forcefully freeing himself from her grasp.

Michelle frowned. There was something definitely not right about all this. She couldn't put her finger on it, but her gut told her that this situation was off. She keyed her earpiece.

"Hill, Sample here. Hey, did you authorize flight? No, I mean a new one, outside the escorts I already sent up—"

A/N

Not sure how many of you have read my bio, but I am a pilot IRL and nothing annoys me more than in movies or TV shows when a pilot can just magically fly anything. As Michelle says, it just doesn't work like that. So if you are ever writing about a pilot keep that in mind if you want a bit of realism to your story.

Once again my deepest thanks to all of you who have taken the time to comment on and review this story. You are the best!

I'll try to get the next chapter up on Friday or Saturday.