Chapter Text
It's time to learn about Melinda May.
She has the others nailed down. Fitzsimmons are easy; they wear their hearts on each other's sleeve. Coulson's reserved but about as open as a spy can be. Ward's cagey by nature, but they spend so much time together that she's mostly got a feel for how he ticks. May though? Not exactly an open book. Skye's not even sure she has a book. If she does, it's protected by a custom leather bodysuit and five layers of glaring.
May is scary. May is kinda mean. May hasn't made her distrust of Skye a secret. None of it lends itself to warm and fuzzy bonding time.
And until today, that was all she wanted to know.
But today they fought a ghost. Today, May saved a girl who thought she was past saving. Today, Coulson showed her how little she truly knows about a person she spends every day with.
And Skye's stupid heart and stupid insatiable brain just can't let it go.
"Mind if I keep you company?"
May doesn't answer. If it were anyone else, that would mean no, but one thing Skye has learned by now - if May means no, she'll say it.
"Cool."
She slips into the other seat silently, trying to exude an ease that's at odds with the flutter at her ribs. May is definitely studying her, her head angled just slightly too far to the right to be innocuous, but Skye doesn't make a move to meet her gaze. She gets the impression that she's being sized up.
Whatever May decides she sees doesn't distract her from take-off, and as soon as they start to rise, Skye forgets her own trepidation. It's hypnotizing watching the ground fall away. She leans forward in her seat, just to watch the lights of the town sink slowly into nothing, swallowed by the darkness.
By the time they level out, the silence is almost companionable. It makes sense that May likes it here. The cockpit's quieter than she imagined - no roar of engines, just the faint woosh of wind whistling by and a few clicks here and there whenever May hits a control.
"You haven't flown much."
She only just manages not to start at May's voice, pulling her gaze off the horizon in surprise. She'd been fully prepared for the other woman to ignore her until they landed.
"We live on a plane."
May shoots her the same frowny grimace she always does when someone says something dumb, and her brain catches up to the meaning.
"Oh, you mean before. Uh, no. Never, before SHIELD. Never even been on holiday really, unless you count day trips to the library." Like always, she tries to make her crappy childhood sound like a joke. Like always, it falls flat in the face of May's stoicism. "Is it that obvious?"
May tilts her head a fraction of an inch. "You look at the sky like you've never seen it."
Maybe that's true. She still hasn't gotten over the sheer awe of being thousands of feet above the rest of the world. Because seriously, how many people get to live in a plane? Not many, she'd wager. It's intoxicating. She's spent hours with her face against the glass in her bunk, just watching the streets and fields and skyscrapers melt by. The view's never the same, even when they're over familiar places, and at night, it's all the more beautiful. The city lights below seem to match their colors to the stars above, and when the moon's hidden like tonight, the clouds come out of nowhere, smothering them for the briefest moment before they break back into darkness.
"It's so different every time," she says, then cringes at how childish she must sound. "Still getting used to it, I guess."
May pauses, obviously picking up on her discomfort. After a moment, she says, "It's no bad thing. Most people don't appreciate the world around them enough."
Skye grins, masking pleasant surprise. "Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment."
May flicks a switch above her head in pointed silence, adjusting a dial to her left with the other hand. It's kind of amazing how easily she navigates the multitude of controls. The physicality intrigues her. Hacking's complicated, yes, but it's all mental - the code is a language you get more fluent in over time. If she had to hit a different button every time she used a new command, she's not sure she'd be as adept.
Usually, she wouldn't bother May with her questions, just google it in her own time. But May's said like four sentences already, which is basically her version of chatty, so she throws caution to the wind.
"How do you remember which buttons do what?"
"Practice." A short answer, but immediate.
"Are the controls different in different planes?"
"Usually."
She points to a small red knob. "What does that one do?"
"Controls the ratio of air to fuel."
"What about," her finger settles on a gauge, "that one?"
"Altimeter. Shows our height above sea level. There's another one here."
"What's the weirdest one? Like do you have a switch to eject the toilets?"
May thumbs a switch and stands abruptly, sliding her headset off. Skye snatches her hand away from the controls, cursing her incessant curiosity. She's sure she's about to be berated for her motor mouth, or else left alone in the cockpit while May finds her precious quiet time elsewhere.
But May doesn't leave.
"Sit."
"What?"
May inclines her head towards the pilot chair. "Sit." As usual, her tone leaves no room for argument, but she doesn't seem overly mad. Impatient, if anything, waiting for Skye to carry out her order. Skye stares at her until it's clear she's not budging, then moves over gingerly, careful not to brush any controls. May glides into her vacated seat silently.
The view is completely different from only a couple feet over. The lights from the controls surround every inch of her vision, distorting the sky in oranges and blues. There are screens and levers and switches on every surface, and she resists the urge to start pressing random buttons just to hear them click.
"Woah, this is so weird," she laughs. It's what she imagines a kid in a fire truck must feel. The illusion of control. She puts a hand to an imaginary earpiece. "Control, this is SHIELD 616, we are clear for takeoff." Her smile drops at May's glare. "Sorry. What am I doing?"
"Hit that switch below your thumb." Skye does so. "Now the one third from the left." Skye does that too. "Okay, you're in control."
"What?!"
Her head whips to May in horror. She can't be serious. She's messing with her. Skye's not in control of a jet right now.
May only rolls her eyes, leaning closer to scan the screens. "You want to know how it works, I'm showing you. What does that screen say?"
Skye follows her finger instinctually, every particle of her insides freaking the hell out. "950. May, I can't fly a plane."
"Most of the automatics are on, you're only guiding it. Turn that dial to MDA."
"What if I crash?"
May raises an eyebrow. "You think I'd let that happen?"
"Well, I didn't think you'd let me fly a freaking plane so maybe I don't know you that well!"
"Just turn the dial."
"Okay," breathes Skye, trying to slow her panic. She's hit like five switches now without something blowing up. And as much as May might find her irritating, she wouldn't kill the entire team just to make Skye look bad.
Probably.
"Screen by your head, what does it say under 'wind'?"
"6KT from 230 degrees," she rattles off without understanding a bit of it.
May hums, but doesn't give an adjustment. For the first time since Skye sat down, she actually leans back in her chair a little, taking her eyes off the controls.
"That's good?" Skye ventures, May's calm easing her stress further.
"Weather's nice."
She's facing the windshield so Skye risks a long look. May doesn't stare at the stars bright-eyed like Skye does, but she seems... May's always calm, but she's normally kind of angry too. Angry calm. Like an ocean, lulling you into a false sense of security before a wave rears up and drags you under. There's no trace of that now though. Something in her posture is almost relaxed. A looseness in her shoulders, maybe. A quietness in her eyes.
It feels weirdly private.
"What's the worst you've flown in?" Skye asks, turning her face back to the screens. May sits straighter again, the spell broken.
"Tornado. Helicopter. Airlifted five. Flick that switch."
It goes on like this for a while. May throws out clipped instructions, Skye follows them blindly, asking questions whenever her heart stops beating loud enough to drown out the answers.
The weird thing is, May's actually a pretty good teacher when it comes down to it. She's not down to chat as much as Ward is, but she doesn't put her down like Ward can either. When she does give feedback, or gesture to the correct control, it's more like an adjustment than a critique.
It's surprising how patient she is, but maybe it shouldn't be. The whole reason she even joined May tonight was because she misjudged her. And for whatever reason, May has decided that she's worth investing in, even if only for the night, which just makes the guilt tighten its hold around her throat.
"I should have trusted you today," she says, after they've been flying smoothly for a whole minute.
May purses her lips. "It's fine," she says, but her voice sounds tighter than before. "You made a call, I made a different one. It happens on a team."
Skye grimaces. She wants to apologise properly - but somehow May doesn't seem like the receptive type. "Yeah, well, I wasn't acting very team-y. I'm sorry."
May inclines her head. It's about the best Skye's gonna get. She tries to break the awkwardness.
"Thanks for letting me do this. It's actually really cool once you stop being scared of blowing everyone up."
May- May smiles. "It is cool."
Skye makes sure she doesn't stare. She's never seen May's lips so much as twitch before. It makes her look younger somehow, a little mischievous. Like she knows something the others don't.
Maybe she does. The way the others talked about May at first - 'she's just the pilot' - made it clear that SHIELD doesn't rank the position as highly as specialist or scientist. But from where Skye's sitting, SHIELD are a bunch of blowhards. Being the pilot is pretty damn awesome.
Before she has time to ruin the moment with a stupid joke, May leans over to check a screen, nodding decisively.
"We need to climb." She stands, coming over Skye's shoulder and flicking a handful of switches in quick succession. Skye starts to rise, ready to be relegated back to passenger status.
May pushes her shoulder, frowning. "Hand on the stick."
Skye gapes at her. "You're letting me do it?"
"You've been doing it."
Skye shakes her head. "I pressed some buttons, the stick is way scarier!"
"You run from things that scare you?" May says evenly, as though she already knows the answer. Without waiting for a reply, she grasps Skye's wrist, guiding it towards the stick. As soon as her fingers make contact, May hits a button. "You're in control."
The stick judders slightly, and Skye jumps, grabbing it firmly.
"What do I do?"
"Keep it steady for now. Get used to the sensation. You feel the resistance?"
Skye nods. "Okay. Okay. Just flying, flying a whole plane. No biggie."
May reaches over again, this time to press two surprisingly gentle fingers against Skye's jaw. "It's not like driving a car. Look at the controls, not through the windshield. This screen here." She points at two arrows. "This is pitch, this is roll."
At Skye's wide eyes: "Up and down, left and right."
"May, I'm really not sure about this."
"Tough," shrugs May, "we're going to climb now. Take a breath and pull down a little."
Skye hesitates again, then narrows her eyes, exhaling shakily. May thinks she can do it. May won't let them crash. May, for whatever reason, has decided to teach her something new. The least Skye can do is try and learn. She puts pressure on the stick.
The plane jolts dramatically.
She freezes immediately, gripping the stick with knuckles white as ash.
"Not that much," May deadpans, placing a careful hand over Skye's trembling one, pushing them back to where they started.
"Sorry."
May doesn't seem concerned. She guides downward by a fraction of an inch, and Skye takes the cue, adjusting in kind.
"Easy," murmurs May. "Watch the screen, wait until the line's between these two arrows. Good. Hold it there."
"May?"
Skye only just manages to keep her hands steady as she jumps again, but it's only Coulson's groggy voice crackling through the radio.
"Everything alright up there?"
"Turbulence," says May shortly, "should be fine now." She looks at Skye, a challenge laced through her raised eyebrows.
Skye nods, locking all of her focus onto that thin line. After a minute May removes her guiding hand. In its void, the air feels harsher against her skin.
"What now?"
"Nothing. Just keep it steady."
"I'm flying a plane," Skye breathes, easing her grip a little. "I'm flying a freaking plane!"
"You're guiding a plane," corrects May, the faintest trace of humor in her voice, "I'm the only one who flies it."
"Why don't you call it she? Don't most pilots do that?"
"Planes aren't people," replies May brusquely, retaking her seat. "And most pilots are sentimental."
"Not you?"
Silence. Skye's looking at her precious line, but she can picture the exasperated glare being thrown her way.
The line wobbles, and she refocuses.
"Am I doing okay?"
May huffs. "You know, you need a lot of reassurance."
"Hey!" She risks a glance, and May's lips hold the ghost of a grin. Two smiles in one day - that's gotta be a record. She fights her own. "Just...reassure me will you?"
May acquiesces with a sigh. "You're doing fine."
Skye laughs, more relieved than anything else. That's about the highest praise she can expect from May, and the loser-kid in her soars at the hint of approval.
After a moment though, May continues. "You learn fast. You're interested, you ask the right questions. You take instruction well when the mood suits you. You have confidence issues, but they'll work out with time."
It's not bursting with enthusiasm, but it's not said to stroke her ego. May speaks clinically, like she's ticking off a mental checklist. For the first time since Skye boarded the plane, she gets the sense that May might truly see her as a potential agent.
And it's a compliment. A genuine one. Not one Skye deserves after the way she treated May all day. The line wobbles again.
"Well, you're a good teacher." Something strikes her, another question she's never bothered to ask. "Have you ever been an SO?"
Curiously, May hesitates before answering. "Twice."
"Why aren't you anymore?"
May is silent for so long, Skye's sure she's not going to answer. Then, almost ruefully, "I don't do well around people so much."
Skye fills in the gaps with what Coulson told her - and after Bahrain, I don't want to.
"I think you're too hard on yourself," she murmurs.
May clears her throat, shifting slightly, which Skye takes to mean conversation over.
"We're going to land soon."
"May, I'm definitely not doing that."
May huffs, as close to a laugh as Skye's ever heard her get.
"God, no. You'd crash us for real."
"Hey!"