Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).
Pairings: Developing Steve/Maria.
Word(s): 3,780 words.
Note: I'm bored and stuff was written down. Might have a continuation.
Musically Inspired: "Babel" by Mumford & Sons.
This Isn't The First Time
Maria was there when they pulled Captain America out of the ice.
She hated the cold ― hated it, reminded her of the mission where she'd been MIA for six months, trapped in a cell, left her to freeze to death ― but orders had been issued, and so Maria Hill travelled out to the Arctic and watched as the medical support tried to keep a steady pulse on a man that looked way better than he should have for someone who's supposedly been in a death-like sleep for seven decades. Remember, Fury said when he'd first called her in, you're not the welcome wagon. Just bring him in in the condition he is now: like a baby who's overdosed on energy. I want his eyes shut and his heart's beating when he gets to New York. Don't screw it up, Hill.
She wasn't planning to.
Operation Bringing Sleeping Beauty Back to the Castle ― she didn't know who was responsible for that horrid name, but somehow along the way it stuck ― was one mission Maria could pull off under her sleep, but it won't be the first time a mission that easily had went incredibly wrong, and Maria was determined not to let this operation be compromised. So, she didn't slack. But then again, she could almost hear Phil's weak attempt at joking: did she ever?
Maria cursed the cold, talked to the doctors and kept her men in check. She debriefed all of them more than a couple of times, had the extraction team stay on put and the back-up on line if they ever needed any. By the time she finally met the mysterious Sleeping Beauty, Maria was sure she was going down with a flu.
"Pretty," she said, when her eyes glanced over the sharp jaw and sandy blond hair. He barely aged a day. Show-off.
It took her a second to confirm that Captain America's case was going to be a large pain in her ass. As though there wasn't enough problem already. She resisted a sigh but rolled her eyes, waved a hand and signalled her men ready. When she retreated her step to let the doctors took her place, she missed the sharp intake of air he took as they jabbed another tube down his arm; his head lolled back, asleep, and one blond hair fell to his forehead. Maria Hill never look back.
"Let's get our princess back safely," she said, and some of her men snickered.
...
Maria missed the official meet-and-greet with Captain America after he went running down into Times Square, but she did caught it on YouTube before their tech deleted it; she was running in Belarus when it happened, and there's blood running down her arm and she's got a team that had medical training as a five-year-old would; the doctors told her the bullet wound might be infected, but she passed-out half-way through his explanation and woke up a day later with machine injected to her body. Maria hated hospitals.
She's wearing a sling on her arm when she barged into Fury's office three days later, and Maria pretended that she didn't see the large figure looming in the background, merged with the shadows. The figure looked unhappy himself ― lost was the more appropriate word to describe it, she thought, a second later ― but Maria had an arm that can't fire guns for the next two months because a director decided to leave a little chunk of (very) important information out of his briefing, and she thought, yeah perhaps the Director could turn to her problem first.
Fury and her stared at each other for a long time.
"What the hell," she began, eyes red and tired and angry all at the same time; her body was threatening to collapse right then and send her into an immediate sleep, but she rooted herself upright, holding the one-eyed stare he's giving out, because goddammit, Maria was furious as fuck. "There's one thing to send me in on a high-risked mission without mentioning a few details in," she started, calm, but there's increasing tremor of rage building up in her tone, and it will take all of her will power to not let her temper get the best of her. "But to send me in with fucking Level 2 Agents, what in the hell were you―"
"The men in black weren't supposed to be there."
"A lot of things weren't supposed to happen." Maria closed her eyes, just for a second, and regained control, knowing she's losing it as the pain on her arm seemed to be increasing. There's a low hiss escaping her lips when she blew out a long breath, but her composure didn't waver. At least, not yet. "I lost a man."
There's quick, cutting silence there when the word tumbled out from her mouth, and she watched how Nick Fury hadn't flinch. She didn't expect him to, but still.
They argued for a while ― well, more of her trying not to lash out at Fury for putting a group of men, men under her orders, into situations she had no full control over. She didn't like it when she lose control, not when there were lives at stake, not when there's blood to gamble on. Fury took what she had to say and snarked a comment in between, but even Maria knew that the older man had did something wrong, and this death ― Jefferson, young, bright, with a rueful smile and a sister which just gave birth to a baby ― was on him.
(Maria usually didn't make a habit to put the blame on others, but this one was not her fault)
Fury ended up giving her a new duty, this time in charge of the helicarrier, and Maria knew this was his attempt at apology, or however much of an apology soldiers like they could muster. Maria took the files and the job with a small nod of acknowledgement while Fury nodded back, knowing that neither could undid what had been done, and promised that it was his news to deliver to Jefferson's sister.
Maria stopped half-way out of the room and stared at the figure without casting her eyes on his expression.
She nodded her head in acknowledgement, in greeting. Captain.
And through the darkness, he nodded back. Commander.
...
Fury's exact words had been "to show him around".
And, aside from that, "to be gentle". Maria didn't know which one was more offensive.
Captain America had been nothing but a clueless, large-looking subject trying to grasp on the reality of the world they live in, following doctor's instructions, going through physiotherapy sessions dutifully, excelling his psych-examination with flying colours and painted his ward with stories most of the agents couldn't place from where. Maria went into his room once, the station they put him in, and recognised few of the sketches, but nothing solid for her to pin-point what. She knew there's Agent Carter, and there's Barnes, but there's just lines mostly, and sometimes, Maria admitted, lines made her dizzy.
Steve Rogers was an excellent artist, nevertheless.
"Fury said you might be ready for active duty," that was her greeting when he met her ― he looked sort of unexpected, blinking a few times before his focus was directed wholly towards her, dropping his chin down. She wanted to glare, asked him what was he really doing here, but that was not her order and this was not the place, so she only flicked a few of hair out from her temple and began, "I'll show you where your new location is."
So, they took a field trip, out in public, and she showed him the new apartment he'll be living at, his new ID card, and the local restaurants and gym. SHIELD have practically set everything up for him, right down to the last dot, and it was just the matter of him trying to fit into the role. He still looked unsure about everything, frowning and furrowing his brows between polite gestures and kind nods.
He's a piece of work, that she could tell.
They were discussing about transportation when she finally noticed that he'd been staring at a guy riding a motorbike, and Hill was quiet for a moment, thinking this through. For a moment, sympathy cut through her features and she pitied this guy ― so strong and capable, yet so out of place ― and didn't realise she had stopped talking until his blue eyes urged her attention, "Ma'am?"
She hated him calling her that ― it made her feel so old ― but refused an eye-roll this time. "If you want one, it won't be a problem."
He looked confused (but then again, he always was, wasn't he―) "I'm sorry?"
"One of those," she bit into her croissant, keeping her gaze cool. "I can arrange that."
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose any problem―"
"Shut up," she said, harsh, and perhaps a bit more agitated than she really meant to (because Maria Hill wasn't meant to babysit superheroes) until she spotted his sad-stricken face and realised what she'd just said. Right. Perhaps somebody did forget to greet him to the real world. Maria allowed herself to sigh. "I mean, no. It won't be a problem. I'll make it possible."
He looked slightly less distraught than he was a second ago, the corner of his lips tilted into the smallest smile. "Can you do that?"
She snorted then, actually rolled her eyes and say: "You're hilarious, Rogers."
...
She hadn't looked up from the papers spread across her desk when he'd came, even when she'd seen him lingering about five minutes prior.
"Hill?"
At least it wasn't ma'am, and Maria really did appreciate that. She hummed, crossed something off the paper and breathed: "Captain."
She didn't say how can I help you, because she was really hoping he'd lost his courage ― never mind he was Captain America, never mind it wassupposed to be in his character to not bond well with cowardice ― but a girl's got to hope. She really had tons of paperworks that needed to be done, and Sitwell had been a bitch about it lately. She's a little pissed that Coulson could still get away with it, knowing full well that Phil had always been everyone's favourite (and yeah, maybe she favoured him than most too―whatever).
"I, uh, I need your help."
"I was hoping you wouldn't say that," she said with a clip, thought perhaps she'd heard him hesitate, probably hadn't expect that coming from her. They must have not been in contact for so long. Months, was it? The last time she fully spoke to him? It hadn't matter. Maria finally blinked up at him, her lips fell in a straight line, "What can I do for you, Captain?"
She could always say no later.
Rogers did the thing with his lips like he's going to smile, but it was uncertain and forced, and took a deep breath. For that one moment, Maria saw the skinny Rogers pre-experiment that she leafed through in his files, but she didn't point it out. He dragged his eyes away, if only for a second, "I'm searching for Agent Carter. Peggy Carter."
"I'm aware who Carter is." She glanced at him, and immediately deduced that he's had it in his knowledge that former Agent Carter was very much alive as he didn't ask any further question. She wondered why he hadn't asked his handler ― not that he had one, officially, since Fury liked to keep an eye on him personally ― about this, but Maria refused to ask questions.
Silence filled the air as he stood there, a little awkwardly, and she tried to weigh her options out. Her pen dragged across the paper, and she could feel his stares burned holes through her movements. She paused, and then: "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
There wasn't much to say, people owe people favours all the time.
...
She didn't ask him why he didn't visit Carter even when she secured him her address, and watched him destroy the punching bags during training.
...
He's apart of the Avengers now, and it's shitty and stupid, but at least he's working.
At least he's got more reason to be there. She watched him made his appearance on the helicarrier and heard two younger agents made fun of his 'grandfather's' clothes, and Maria wondered, not for the first time, that perhaps she was still stuck in high school. She barked at those agents to do their jobs and kept their mouth shut, because even though she's still a little pissed at Fury for the insane Initiative, Captain America ― or any of the Avengers, if she was being absolutely honest ― might have been just what they need for the alien invasion job.
They made wrecked of New York City, and Maria can't get a good night sleep.
(Phil was dead and Phil was dead and Phil was dead.)
Sitwell's on the major clean-up crew and Fury pulled her to the side and put her on Captain America duty as the soldier travelled down to California or wherever, and Maria didn't know which was worse. Rogers cut off the tracker about four days later and Fury's a little mad that he did.
"At least he's getting better," she said, tired, and if she could, maybe she'd even be smirking on his behalf.
"Shut up," Fury snapped and sent another agent to tail Rogers over. Maria silently hoped to see how'd that unfold. Deny as they might, Rogerswas getting better at knowing how the present-world works.
Phil would have been proud.
...
About a few months later, she's got news that Rogers was back in SHIELD, but he wasn't on the helicarrier, and Maria could deal with that.
He's got assigned to missions and he did them splendidly well, returning back bruised and near battered, but not crippled enough that he's just got the stuff to keep on moving on. In the end, Maria realised, they're not that different. They're both soldiers, harboured the same scars and responsibilities and each had their own stories to tell, own ghosts to haunt them over. Even if some of them were more fortunate with super-soldier serum in their being.
Maria Hill saved his ass about two months later.
She's got a pounding headache when the shot was fired, and it was smelly and stinky wherever they were, and she barely had an idea about the whole situation considering they were Captain America's last extraction team available, and they were only there because Fury demanded them to, last-minute. Maria hated saving his ass.
Maria also realised she hated a lot of things.
"Thank you," Rogers said when they're in the clear, and there were still blood trickling down her cheek. She wanted to punch him. Just for being a large pain in her ass like she expected him to, years ago. She didn't, though, only pressed her skull harder against the seat as the helicopter took off.
"Shut up," she told him, because she really needed him to.
This time, Rogers smiled and really did. Shut up, that was.
...
HYDRA attacked, and Nick Fury was dead.
Except of course, he wasn't. Just like Phil wasn't. Or Rogers wasn't. Or the Winter Soldier (apparently he was Bucky, Roger's long lost friend) wasn't. Too many people who were supposed to die, didn't. Maria was getting tired of the same plot and drama, but that was the world she chose to live in, and she'd be damned if she failed on it now. So, she kept on going and working and monitoring and planning. Even when she's losing men, back-up and sense of real security.
Maria swore she'll keep on breathing, as long as Fury's machine will keep on beeping.
Right after his umpteenth surgery, Fury told her to save Captain America. It won't be an easy job. There won't be back up, and will, most definitely, be completely on her own. Still, it was better than to be cooped up in the old building and smelling metal rust and heard the doctor's chair scuffled whenever he moved, murmuring out apologies straightly afterwards when she sent him a sharp glare, irritated mostly.
She saved Captain America, and she's got to admit: it was kind of cool.
Plus, she'd also saved Black Widow, and that just doesn't happen everyday. She led them to the secret base and let Rogers and Romanoff reunited with the SHIELD's director while she went off and checked what her monitors had picked up. For the next few hours, they spent up planning, and when Rogers wanted to bring down SHIELD along with HYDRA, she knew it was the only option that was right on the table. HYDRA's infiltration had been way in too deep; saving SHIELD would be a losing battle.
So, they didn't.
They all had their roles, and they were set. What Maria wasn't expecting was, by the end of the battle, it was her who might have killed Captain America.
...
He's alive and she didn't visit him at the hospital.
Well, she tried to, but he wasn't waking up and Maria had to set up an appointment at Stark before it's too late, and she really, really hated the hospitals ― too many trips to the ER when she was a child, and the nurses have always been a little too fake in her personal opinion ― so she did what she did best: she gave them a head start.
She sent him a text message and was surprised when he showed up where she wanted him to.
Seeing him there in civilian clothing ― no more grandfather's clothes, partially thanks to Tony or his persuasion anyway ― was a little disheartening because then, it was clear that that was that. SHIELD was gone. HYDRA will burn. Maria will contribute to the latter, she promised, and greeted him with the gentlest smile she could muster. The smile he returned was wider, gentler, kinder, and Maria was glad he didn't lose himself when he could. He looked handsome, she thought.
"I'm sorry I let you fall," she said, when she handed him the papers and intel she's gotten, hoping it would be enough to give them just an inclination on where to begin.
"You didn't let me fall." He told, after a beat, accepting the file. She gave him a rueful smile.
"Don't get yourself killed." It sounded like an order when she said it, but she didn't take it back, adjusting her posture, straightening her spine. Rogers just looked amused. "Tony won't rest easy if you do."
"He worries too much." He feigned annoyance, and Maria snorted.
"Come here," she murmured, noting two strange looking men keeping an eye on her for the last five minutes. She still didn't know if the men's target was her, or Rogers, but either way: the men won't walk for too long. Maria will make sure of that. She tilted her head up to him as Rogers took a step forward, subtly raising up one eyebrow while Maria reached out and tugged on his jacket, made pretence to brush off any dust. "Just be careful out there."
"I will." He slowly hummed, watching her with careful eyes and Maria positioned his back towards the men. "Someone tailing me?" He asked, but it's a whisper and he dared himself to lift one hand and brushed a fallen strand of dark hair on her temple; Maria didn't flinch, but her breath did caught up in her throat because all of a sudden, Captain America was inches away from her and Maria could smell dirt with a hint of cologne on his shirt. She stifled a glare, and she thought Rogers might have been smirking. Bastard.
"Me," she responded dryly, but drew out a smile to maintain her role― whatever that may be. "Do me a favour, and dye your hair will you?"
He nodded, understood.
"Good," she said. "Don't do anything stupid."
He crooked a shy smile, this time no longer forced nor uncertain, because, Maria would like to think, that he just might be getting used to people like her (or just, you know, her); there's no hesitation in his steps now, just complete certainty on where to go next, to continue moving forward. He couldn't afford on being lost and scared, not where he's heading, and both of them knew that. His smile stayed with her, warm and gentle, as he let out: "I wouldn't dream of it."
"Mm-hmm," she nearly snorted, hiking up an eyebrow. "We'll see about that."
Rogers' smile grew wider, and he went in and hugged her (hugged her), perhaps still playing his role and Maria stayed in his embrace for a full three seconds before he parted, said his thank you's and disappeared away. And what do you know? She did break the two men's legs. She hated lousy spies.
...
Three months later, Maria woke up to her phone blasting in her ears. It was nearly four in the morning. She'd expected it to be Tony, because it won't be the first time it happened, and already plotted her revenge when the sound at the end of the line didn't belong to the billionaire. "Hello?" The line was shit, but there's a voice there. A man's voice. "Hello?"
"Who's this?"
"Hill? Hill? Are you there, it's―" The voices muffled and disappeared, until it formed together and became words again. Maria waited, steady and alarmed. "Maria, it's Steve. It's Steve Rogers. Hello?"
Maria sighed and knew somehow, somewhere, she did saw this one coming.