Ignoring the full body ache and encroaching exhaustion, Maria Hill strode down the battle damaged hall of the Helicarrier, rattling off a rather disheartening list. "Engineering reports that it will take several weeks to repair the engines alone. One is structurally sound, but still completely off-line, two and four overheated from the strain and all their relays will need to be replaced. Three incurred major structural damage, though the rotor may be salvageable. According to Kapoor, it's a good thing we set down when we did."

She didn't have to tell Fury that they had been mere minutes from total engine failure. Had they still been airborne, they would've fallen like a rock instead of settling (albeit less gently than usual) on the open ocean.

"We also suffered major damage to the coolant systems, lower hangar bay and wishbone observation levels. Detention level sustained minor damage, though the drop away cell was lost. About half of the onboard labs were destroyed by the concussive blast originating from engine three and the techs are still trying to counteract the damage done by the virus that shutdown engine one. Almost every deck suffered explosive damage from grenades and bullets…We won't be airborne for months, sir."

Beside her, Director Nick Fury nodded and heaved a heavy sigh. As the Council was displeased (to put it mildly) with him, it was unlikely any requests for funding would be granted. It was a good thing Fury believed in being prepared for any eventuality. Maria knew there were multiple, well hidden slush funds…well, perhaps knew was overstating.

Only Fury really knew the details regarding the off book accounts.

"Casualties?" he asked, giving a nod to battered young age and hurrying past. One of the boys sleeves was torn open, revealing a raw looking red burn on freckled skin.

Compared to many others, he'd gotten off easy. They've lost many good men and women during the conflict. "87 confirmed dead," she replied bleakly. "Dr. Mata's people have been too busy to submit a full accounting of injured personnel, but I think it's safe to assume the list is long."

He nodded grimly. Those who didn't know Fury would think he didn't care, but Maria knew better. The Director cared, but he also knew when to put emotion aside and display nothing. There were those in positions of power who would use any perceived weakness against him.

"Have you been to medical, had that looked at?" he asked, motioning to the cuts and rather spectacular bruising that had bloomed on her cheekbone in the day since the battle.

Maria shook her head, then realize where they were headed. That she had noted the slightly less damaged area (the infirmary had not been a priority for Loki's boarding party), indicated that perhaps she should have had the injuries examined earlier. Exhaustion and head injuries were not conducive to clear thinking.

They stepped into the main medical bay to find a wrung out group of nurses and doctors still treating a variety of injuries, having triaged the more serious cases earlier. A few agents attempted to come to attention at the site of Fury, but he waved them off, catching the attention of the nearest nurse. "Where's Mata?"

The younger man, a former Navy corpsman, if Maria recalled correctly, nodded to a door at the far end of the room. "We converted the lab into an ICU, put the more critical in there."

"Thank you, son," Fury said kindly, then patted the shoulder of the female agent on the treatment couch before heading toward the door.

Maria followed him.

Dr. Lenore Mata had been hand-picked by Fury for the position of chief medical officer aboard the Helicarrier. A former Army trauma surgeon with combat experience and an unflinchingly professional demeanor, Maria thought her good choice.

Normally, the tall, dark-haired doctor wore her uniform under a white lab coat, but today was not a normal day. Today, she wore rumpled scrubs, slightly bloodstained, and her once tight braid was no longer tight. Mata was checking the readouts on her tablet computer (linked to the infirmary systems), but looked up at their entrance.

"Nora," Fury said briskly, not approaching the beds where the badly injured agents lay. "Status."

The doctor frowned. "Respectfully, sir, too damn busy to file a report."

"I don't want to report," Fury replied easily and Maria thought that, on any other day, he would have been more amused by the doctors disgruntled attitude. "Just an update on your special patient."

Special patient?, Maria wondered, unsure what they were talking about. She greatly disliked that feeling.

"Doing well," the doctor said, waving them to follow her over to where privacy curtain had been drawn around bed. "We reinflated his lung and patched the nicked aorta. He'll be intubated for a while, best to let the respirator breathe for him until that lung heals a bit, but barring complications, I see no reason he won't make a full recovery."

Maria only listened to most of the doctors statement with half an ear, as she froze in shock the moment she stepped beyond the curtain.

Laying on the bed, skin nearly as white as the sheet pulled halfway up his chest, Phil Coulson slept the sleep of the injured and heavily medicated…very clearly not dead, despite Director Fury's earlier indication.

No, not an indication, he had out right said Phil had died!

Things suddenly fell into place in Maria's rattled mind. Fury had told Captain Rogers, Stark and the others that Phil had died in order to make Loki's attack more personal, to give them that push they needed to come together as a team. He'd even bloodied Phil's Captain America trading cards to use as a prop to drive home his point.

It was…a brillian play.

Utterly ruthless, but brilliant.

Maria could respect it as a tactic, but on a personal, human level it was chilling.

She wondered if the Avengers would feel the same way, or if they would express dislike at the idea of having been so manipulated.

Though she knew they'd be pleased to hear Phil hadn't actually died, what Fury had done probably wouldn't sit well with any of the team.

Lovely. Now she'd have to add doing damage control to placate a group of cranky, superpowered, deadly assets to her list of duties.

Not a pleasant thought, but at the moment she was too tired (and to relieved to see her fellow agent alive) to care.

TBC…. (Next up, the team!)

Comments, pretty please?