A/N: This story was requested monthss ago when I was writing All This Time. I wrote it out, but never went back to edit it, then I all but forgot about it. When I was reading the lyrics to the song that was a part of this day's prompts for Captain Hill Week, I recalled the story and decided to go back an edit it for this.

It will be all but impossible to understand what is going on in this story if you haven't read All This Time. My apologies, I had planned to post it closer to when I published that story.

Serious Maria angst and self-deprecation. Triggers: Past child abuse, past relationship abuse. I only used the song prompt for this: Hurricane by The Hush Sound. I also incorporated the lyrics into the story so it's a song-fic, as well as used a line from it for the title.

Please R&R

Send out the morning birds to sing of the damage
Now that the calm's returned, I know I can't manage

Maria closed the door to the small quinjet bathroom and dropped her rucksack to the floor. She leaned against the back of the door for support as she fought the emotions that threatened her again. When had she become such a wreck, so prone to falling apart and weeping? She had to pull it together. She couldn't go back out there and let them see her like this. She was supposed to be leading this team. Some leader she'd be if she walked out and did what her heart was screaming at her to do, namely cling to Steve and beg his forgiveness.

She scoffed at that idea. It couldn't happen. She couldn't allow that to happen. Even if she had to put on her infamous Agent Chill persona, she would resist this ridiculous desire to make it right with Steve. Forget the fact that if Matt hadn't called last night Maria had been ready to tell Steve everything. Forget that she never would have left him again to go to Matt. Forget how she felt when he touched her. Forget what she realized when he showed up at her door, what he told her.

"No." She told herself sharply. "Don't even go there."

She turned intentionally to the mirror behind her to remind herself exactly why Steve couldn't want her but was surprised to see she was nothing like what she remembered from last night. With the exception of her hair, which now looked as though she had put her finger into an electrical socket, her appearance was mostly normal. There was no make-up on her face, and her clothes, Maria could barely think straight, her real clothes were covering that horrible outfit she was wearing when Steve arrived.

She supposed now that she had thought he'd really done almost what Tony had said, and dragged her out the door, but he hadn't. He'd cleaned her up and dressed her first. Covered her shame, so to speak, so no one else would know what a fool she was making of herself. Only, that's not what Steve would have been thinking. Steve would have thought that she couldn't be seen by Tony with all that make-up on because he would have teased her forever. And he would have covered her so no one would think ill of her.

You're standing in my doorway, though he's asleep in my bed
The steady murmur, always in my head..

Gripping the sink, Maria fought a wave of nausea that accompanied the flood of memories. When she looked back up into the mirror, what she saw terrified her. Her eyes were no longer those of the Maria Hill that her colleagues at SHIELD had always known, they were the eyes of that scared girl who hid in the park until it was dark, afraid to go home and discover what her mother was angry about today. They were hollow, like the teenager who lay in the hospital bed after a severe beating and listened to the social worker tell her, again, that this time they'd take care of her, knowing full well that she would be back with her mother before she was even healed. They were the eyes of the young woman, still three abusive boyfriends away from deciding enough was enough and making that call for help.

Looking in the mirror, she knew she was barely two steps away from a mental breakdown. She'd seen the signs in agents before, when the pressure of the job got to be too much. She'd pulled them from the field, put them behind a desk, and then watched them whither. Only there was no desk she could go to, she was the damned Deputy Director. The only way out was down. And it wasn't the job that was killing her, anyway. It was her stupidity, and her fears, the ones Steve was now proving irrational. What was he thinking, coming back into her life like this? How could he still love her after everything she'd done to him?

Maria closed her eyes. She couldn't look at herself another second.

You're the finest thing that I've done, the hurricane I'll never outrun
I could wait around for the dust to still, but I don't believe that it ever will.

Shaking her head, she stepped over to the shower stall and turned on the water. Slowly she began to undress. In her mind, she imagined Steve going to her closet and pulling out the clothes to cover her. She pictured him lifting her body and carefully slipping the blouse over her arms, then buttoning each button. She could see his blush as he thought of the intimacy of the act. She recalled his face as she woke in the quinjet; the fear, the self-loathing, the belief that he had crossed a horrible line that deserved no forgiveness.

As she stepped under the water, she finally let the tears pour out. How could she have forced Steve, the one person who had never caused her any pain, to make such a drastic decision? To go against his feelings of love, to think the only way to keep her away from someone who was hurting her was by hurting her.

She tried to shake it off, tried to regain her focus, but she knew she was losing it. If she lasted through this assignment, she would consider it a miracle. Not only did she have to face the people and leaders of the town she had helped nearly destroy, but she had to face the families of those she'd allowed to die.

Her mind flashed to the night after it happened. How comforting Steve had been, how she had clung to him, her drunkenness making her unable to control her need. It had been so long since she had felt his touch, known his kindness. But her mind kept reminding her that she had to push him away. It was better that she leave him than the other way around, which is exactly what would happen once he leaned the truth about her.

And since the roof fell in, I'll lean on what matters
Caught in the slightest wind, everything else unravels

Maria finally found the presence of mind to wash the hairspray out of her hair and finish bathing. When she stepped out of the shower, she toweled off and, as she had done for the previous year and a half, ever since she had realized that Steve had only wanted to be with her to find comfort after Coulson's death and everything that had happened in New York, she dropped the towel to the floor to look at herself in the mirror.

She touched each scar, reminding herself of how she had received them, and how each was a reminder of who she really was, particularly the thin line that ran up the middle, from her pelvis to her waist. At first they had only whispered at her, the memories of her past, but now they were louder, and they forced her to realize that she had been a fool to think she could remake herself. Even achieving the position of Deputy Director meant nothing. It didn't make her better, nothing ever could. She would forever be the same ugly, worthless, bitch her mother had always told her she was.

She closed her eyes and fought back another flood of tears. In her mind she could see Steve's sad eyes as he watched her push him away, watched her destroy herself. She could hear his words of love, telling her how she was worth everything to him. She felt his touch, as if he was there with her in the room. His hands always gently showing her his care.

And somewhere in her mind, the truth she had repressed in fear, began to break through. She needed Steve. As much as she had promised herself when she broke free from her past that she would never allow herself to need another person, she knew she needed his kindness, his care. He made her a better person. But just as quickly, she tried to protect herself with the reminder that once he saw her, all the scars, and knew what had happened to her, he would have no choice but to leave her.

You're standing in my doorway seven cities ago
The days are racing, but you come back too slow..

The two sides warred in her mind as, with shaky hands, she dressed herself in her SHIELD uniform. She dried her hair, pulling it back into a bun, and tried not to think of how Steve had grown to love pulling each pin from her hair, until he could untangle it all and let it drop to her shoulders. She put on her light make-up and worked to push back the memory of the way he looked at her when she had no make-up on at all.

Finally, she was physically ready to return to the rest of the team, but internally she couldn't quite face them. The question of her need for Steve kept her mind and heart in turmoil until the warring sides settled on one thing they agreed on. She had to tell Steve about the scars. They were the evidence of her past, the proof of what people thought of her. Once he learned about them, she'd know one way or the other.

There was a knock on the door, and she heard Steve ask if she was OK. She couldn't find her voice to speak to him. If she said one word to him now she would crack and break apart. Her need was winning, and there was nothing she could do but hold it back until, well, she wasn't sure when, but now was not the time. Now she had to keep it together.

She shoved her old clothes into the rucksack, then quickly opened the door. She avoided Steve's eyes. If she looked at him, saw the pain and regret about his actions there, she knew it would push her over.

"Maria?" she heard him behind her, his voice was quiet, but she could hear his regret.

She ignored him and walked purposely to the front of the quinjet and took a seat behind Natasha. Silence reigned the rest of the flight. Maria tried not to think how bad the situation was if even Tony found nothing to say.

You're the finest thing that I've done, the hurricane I'll never outrun
I could wait around for the dust to still, but I don't believe that it ever will.