A/N: Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by Captain America: Civil War.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Warning: This chapter has content that is not suitable for anyone under the age of 21. If you're under the age of 21, and read this anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Namaste,

Sunny

Captain America

Civil War

I Still Believe

My Spirit Longs with Thee to Rest

Wakanda

As they crossed into Wakandan air space, in a streak of protectiveness, Clint purposely woke Wanda by whipping the blanket off. The girl looked at him blearily, as if she weren't sure who he was, or how she'd gotten here. He helped her up from Scott's lap, handed her dry clothes, opened the latrine door, pushed her inside, and closed it again.

Somehow, Scott was still asleep.

When she came out, Clint woke the former thief by hitting him in the face with dry clothes. He jerked awake, and climbed to his feet. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he went into the latrine and shut the door with a click.

Taking Wanda by the hand, Clint led her to a jump seat, and helped her buckle up. She gave him a sleepy smile, and when Scott came out, she perked up even more. Clint's daughter Lila was under the age of ten. He wouldn't need his shotgun for a few years, and though he had the urge to do so with Wanda, she would neither welcome nor allow it. Still…

"We will be landing in just a few minutes. Please take your seats."

When Scott tried to sit next to Wanda, Clint glared and sat down with his arms crossed. As his best friend, Natasha, sitting on Wanda's other side, would know what he was thinking. With a smirk, she unbuckled and stood. "You can have my seat, Scott."

He glanced at Clint, who stared back. "Thanks, Ms. Romanoff."

"Natasha," she tossed over her shoulder as she claimed the empty seat on the port bulkhead next to Steve, deliberately ignoring Clint and the daggers he was shooting in her direction.

Sam had long ago passed out at starboard, buckled in, and arms crossed. Every few seconds, he let out a soft snore.

In the middle, to the right of the cockpit, Hill and Cameron were no longer talking, though Hill was watching the specialist with a contemplative stare, while he turned his back to her. Not that she was doing anything to get his attention. It seemed calculated to make the specialist uncomfortable, and he retaliated by not letting it bother him.

~~O~~

Too tired to care what Clint thought, Wanda took hold of Scott's hand where it lay on this thigh. He flashed her a smile, and squeezed back without letting go. Their age difference didn't bother her as she'd always been attracted to older men. In fact, for a short time, she had a bit of a crush on Clint simply because he treated her so kindly while they were hiding during the battle of Sokovia, and again later. Because her brother had given his life to save Clint and the boy, he felt that it was his duty to take care of her, totally ignoring the fact that the twins had been on their own for years before von Strucker offered them a way to get what they wanted.

Their grief and thirst for revenge against Tony Stark had led them to agree to experimentation that was designed to enhance their latent powers. Wanda's ability to move things with her mind had manifested itself not long after the onset of puberty, though she had little control, and her strength was limited. It annoyed Pietro to no end that his only power had been that he could run really fast, though not nearly the speed he obtained from the Mind Stone.

In moments of bitterness, Wanda often wondered why von Strucker had chosen to enhance that ability in her brother, instead of giving him one that would serve him better, like the ability to heal quickly, or imperviousness. If that had been the case, he would still be with her, and none of the appalling events that followed would have happened.

The quinjet landed. Steve opened the hatch as they unbuckled and stood up, stretching and yawning. T'Challa came around to the ramp, glanced left and right, and walked down to be greeted by Imani and her squad of Dora Milaje, a pool of superior Wakandan women who were the personal bodyguards and royal security to the king, and are recruited from every tribe in Wakanda.

Imani inclined her head in greeting, scowling as her eyes met Natasha's from where she stood behind T'Challa.

He nodded over his shoulder. "As you can see, we have more guests. See that their wounds are attended, and assign rooms on the residential floors so they may rest. I will join them for dinner tonight."

"As you wish, your highness." T'Challa exited the area through a hidden door that Wanda guessed must lead to the palace. The woman called Imani gestured, and two women came forward. "They will see to your needs."

Steve pushed the sleeves of his black shirt up over his forearms. "I can show them the way. We all need showers, and clean clothes." Hill nudged him with her elbow. "And if we could get a snack to keep us until dinner, that would be great."

"Of course, Captain Rogers." She moved no more than a finger, and the women backed off.

The Clinic

The jailbirds followed Steve to the lift, and out on the clinic level to the nurse's station. "If Dr. Hawa isn't busy, could I speak to her, please?"

The nurse smiled, and nodded over Steve's shoulder. At the grin on Steve's face, his companions all turned in that direction. Pretending disinterest, Clint gave the woman a quick perusal. Five-five at the most, slim, early thirties, intelligent, and crazy about Steve. Their leader felt the same way, to go by the spark in his eyes at seeing her.

"Introduce me to your friends, Steven."

Clint appreciated the African lilt to her soft, yet strong voice. She was a force to be reckoned with, if he was any judge of character, and he was. He nodded when Steve introduced him. "Pleasure, ma'am."

"Please, call me Kaya."

At that point, Clint noticed that Scott and Wanda were standing close together, and squeezed in between them, meeting Scott's annoyance with smug half-grin. The former thief backed off, trailing behind until they reached the exam area.

Clint sat next to Wanda, with Cameron on the other side. Hill sat between Sam and Scott on the bench across from them. Wanda yawned, and leaned against him, and by the time the nurse had prepared the rooms, she was nearly asleep. He nudged her and stood, taking her hand. At the door, he sent her into the room, and the nurse was there, motioning him next door. Scrubs lay on the exam table, and Clint was relieved to be rid of the prison clothes.

He'd just pulled the shirt down over his stomach when he heard Wanda calling out, "No! Don't touch me! Stay away."

The most disconcerting thing was hearing it with his ears, and inside his head. Clint darted into the hall, pushing through the group to Wanda's room. He was stopped at the door by the nurse. "She is refusing to allow the doctor to examine her."

"What kind of exam?"

The nurse looked uncomfortable, her eyes darting over the concerned faces staring at her with a mixture of emotions. "It is our policy to perform tests necessary to determine if she has been… assaulted."

Rolling his eyes, Clint gave the woman a mild form of his death glare. "Did you ask her if anything like that happened?"

"No. But she was the only woman in the prison, and we assumed…"

Hill elbowed her way to Clint's side. "Well, don't. I was there too. Only the female guards are permitted to attend to the female prisoners. The male guards wouldn't have been given a chance to assault her."

Clint added his voice. "Let it go for now. I'll have a talk with her later."

Again, the woman's eyes darted over Clint's shoulder, this time to Steve. She nodded, went into the room, and closed the door.

Sometime later, once the five from the Raft had been poked, prodded, and had blood, and other fluids taken while their companion's wounds were treated, they were fed a snack to hold them until the evening meal. Afterward, one of the guards, another woman whose outward bearing and countenance was similar to Imani's appeared to show them to their rooms. The group waited for her to leave to talk.

Sam crossed his arms, and shifted his feet. "Do we just pick a room?"

To get the ball rolling, Hill pointed at the door farthest from the lifts. "That's mine. Call me when dinner's ready." The door slammed on her last word.

Steve, Natasha, and Bucky all had their own rooms as indicated by a small digital display beside the door with their names. Though, to go by Natasha's smirk, she and Bucky probably didn't often sleep apart. And sure enough, she knocked, and let herself into his room.

Clint waited for Wanda to choose, and took the one closest to her so he could hear if she called out at night. To his annoyance, Scott co-opted the room directly across from Wanda's while Sam settled for the one next to Scott. Cameron took the last one, though he didn't seem happy that it was directly across from Hill.

Everyone went into their rooms, and shut the doors.

~~O~~

Now that she was finally alone, Hill went into the bathroom for the first real look at herself since the Raft. Her hair, usually kept above her shoulders, was to the middle of her back. She ran her fingers through it, paying special attention to the white streak on the right. The part would go through the middle of it. The texture of her hair didn't suit her at all. She'd been almost fanatical about keeping her hair clean and well-conditioned. But as tired as she was, and they still had to put in an appearance with the king, it would have to wait. Morning was soon enough to decide if she wanted to color the white or leave it.

She didn't remember much of anything that happened before Wanda jump started her brain, certainly not how she got to the Raft in the first place, or why she'd been in a padded room. Insanity didn't run in her family, nor had she exhibited mental illness prior to…

The last event she could clearly recall was applying for a position with Stark Industries. She passed the polygraph, drug test, and background checks easily, thanks to her training as a spy. Tony had given her a Junior VP position with New Projects.

Turning on the cold water, Hill splashed her face, and ran her wet hands through her hair. She turned the water off, grabbed a hand towel to dry with as she returned to the bedroom, and lay down, waking with a start when someone knocked on her door three hours later.

"Dinner time, Hill," Clint's voice called out.

"Yeah, okay. Gimme five."

The dresser held a variety of women's underclothing still in the packages, and in the closet, she found women's clothing in several sizes and styles. She grabbed a top and pants that sort of matched, and put on a pair of sneakers she took from the drawer.

Hill stepped into the hall at the same time Cameron exited his room. He glanced at her and away. His embarrassment could only come from the fact that he'd slept with a KGB agent whom he thought was her. Did that mean he'd been attracted to her all the years they've worked together, or did the imposter seduce him into their relationship? The likelihood that he'd tell her the truth was small. However, if she used Natasha's method of interrogation…

That thought was discarded almost before it was formed. Dishonesty would not serve her well with someone who had risked not only his job, and his livelihood to save her and the others, but his life.

Cameron had a family, an adopted mother and father. And Hill was probably one of the few who knew more about him than he knew about himself. Secrets that wouldn't be a problem for Cameron, though if made known would cause great concern for someone who wielded power within the US government.

She also knew that he'd overcome a debilitating illness to get where he was today. There was a possibility that it could recur, but he didn't let that stop him from living his life. The thought brought her to an epiphany of sorts concerning how she could've been gone for more than two years without anyone catching on. She didn't let people close, didn't allow them know her well enough to see the real Maria Hill. Chances are her own father didn't even know she'd been gone. They hadn't talked in nearly twenty years.

Have to do something about that, and soon.

Cameron avoided her gaze, and fell into step behind the others. Hill, who seldom did anything on impulse, decided that today, she would break with tradition. She sped up next to Cameron, and wrapped her fingers around his arm just below the bicep. He jumped, and looked at her with wide eyes, almost as if he thought she were going to kill him. Hill smiled when their shoulders brushed against each other, and finally Cameron relaxed.

At one point in their trek to the dining room, he laid his free hand over hers where it gripped his arm, lightly caressing her fingers. Then he remembered they didn't have an intimate relationship, and the hand was removed.

In the dining room, Cameron held her chair. Embarrassed or not, he was the type of man who would always be a gentleman. Hill pictured him holding an umbrella over her head in the rain, even though they weren't exactly speaking. Of course, if the woman was trying to kill him or his family, friends, teammates, or innocent bystanders, then all bets were off.

She scooted her chair in, slid the napkin from under the silverware, and draped it over her lap. His eyes roamed over the choices for seats, deciding to take the one to her left. Her stomach growled, and she pressed a hand to it, hoping no one had heard. Then she felt someone watching her, and looked up into Cameron's brown eyes, twinkling with humor. He pressed his lips together, and hid a grin by pretending to rub the end of his nose. Hill looked away to keep from laughing, catching Sam watching them. With an expression that was anything but innocent, Sam took a drink of water, and returned the glass to its place in the setting.

T'Challa came in a short time later, gracefully seating himself at the head of the table. In a true showing of noblesse oblige, their host had also dressed casually, though Hill got the sense that he often just chilled out in the evenings after a long day of ruling the country. And that led her to wonder if his father was out of the country, in a meeting with heads of state, or wasn't up to guests.

The second course, Moroccan Tagine, made with Wakandan vegetables, and served over couscous was brought in by the staff. Again, Hill's stomach growled, though with less volume than before. The meal was accompanied by cheesy pull-apart rolls with butter, which she used to soak up the broth.

Glancing over at Cameron, Hill noticed that his serving looked different than the rest in that it didn't have chicken. She used to elbow to knock one of the forks to the floor. Cameron reached for it at the same time she did, bringing their heads close together. "Don't you like chicken, Klein?"

"I'm a vegetarian." At her startled glance, he said, "I guess you don't know everything about me."

To hide her surprise, Hill turned to T'Challa. "Pardon me for asking, your highness, but why didn't King T'Chakka join us?"

All conversation stopped, telling Hill she'd made a major faux pas, etiquette-wise regarding dinner conversation, confirmed when Cameron touched her on the hand under the table, giving her a slight head shake.

"My father was killed several weeks ago in Berlin."

More embarrassed than at any other time in her life, Hill looked down at her plate. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Do not trouble yourself, Ms. Hill. You were imprisoned for more than two years. There's no way you could've known."

She adjusted the napkin in her lap, and looked him in the eye. "Still, I'm sorry for your loss."

He nodded once in acceptance of her sympathy as a young man circled the table, refilling the wine glasses. "I often eat alone. It is a pleasant change to have company. Please continue with your story, Mr. Lang. What happened after Hope Van Dyne had you arrested?"

That Night

T'Challa invited Steve, Natasha and Bucky to a meeting with several of the doctors, after which, the monarch left them alone to talk over the information that had been presented.

Seldom one to keep her opinions to herself, Natasha took Bucky's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Your idea has merit."

"I know. It's just…"

Steve clapped a hand on Bucky's shoulder, and smiled. "I'm with you, Buck. Whatever you decide."

The couple followed him out, Natasha speaking for both of them. "Let's just sleep on it, and see how you feel in the morning, malenkii."

Bucky nodded, and let Natasha lead him away. For several weeks now, Steve had watched his best friend turn to someone else for comfort, and advice. He wasn't upset, exactly. Well, yeah. He sorta was.

Hands in his pockets, he walked aimlessly through the building, randomly taking the stairs, and walking some more. Or at least he thought his actions were random until he found himself at the clinic looking for Kaya. Though it was late, he approached the nurse, but before he could say a word, she pointed down the hall. "She's checking on the patient in room five."

With a nod of thanks, Steve located room five. The door was shut, and to him that indicated a wish not to be disturbed. He leaned against the opposite wall, hands in his pockets, and ankles crossed.

After a while, he pushed off the wall, pacing down to room one and back to five without paying attention to the staff coming and going, until Kaya touched him on the arm.

"I thought you would be spending the evening with T'Challa."

"We had dinner, and a short meeting with the doctors regarding Bucky."

Her hand slipped down to hold onto his. "We're doing everything we can for your friend." She shook her head as Steve tucked her hand around the bottom of his bicep, and he let her lead him down the hall. "Have you spoken to him regarding his options?"

Steve chuckled humorlessly. "These days, he prefers to take Nat into his confidence instead of me."

"This relationship that Mr. Barnes has with Ms. Romanoff is still new, and somewhat exciting for them both. I'm not saying that the spark will go out, but soon, they will remember that there are others to whom they can turn for comfort, and advice. Just give him time." They stopped in front of a locked door. "I need to collect a few supplies."

Kaya scanned her badge, and stepped inside, leaving the door cracked a few inches. He listened to her moving around, and had a vision of them sharing a home, and how comforting the sounds of a loved one from another room could be. For the first time since they'd returned from the Raft, he began to feel like he wouldn't have to keep looking over his shoulder forever.

"Steven?" He rushed to Kaya's aide, finding nothing wrong when he opened the door. On one of the shelves sat a box filled with all sorts of medical supplies in hermetically sealed packages. "The step ladder is gone, and I need a few items from the top shelf. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all." Steve took down the items she requested, handing them to her to stack in the box. He grabbed the last one just as he heard a click. Over his shoulder, he saw Kaya standing with her back to the closed door, smiling. "It's difficult to find a place in the clinic where two people can be alone as most of the interior and exterior is monitored."

Steve placed the last package on top of the others in the box, and faced Kaya. They were only separated by a few feet, but it seemed like so much more until he could touch her.

Kaya gripped his arms below the biceps, slowly moving up to his shoulders while he closed his hands around her narrow waist, sliding up to the bottom of her ribs. He tightened his grip, pulling her closer as she tilted her head back. He accepted her invitation, and lowered his mouth to hers.

And just like that day in the lift, the moment their lips touched, Steve felt the spark she'd created inside him building to a flame as her hands wrapped around his neck to urge him closer.

Their bodies touched all along the front. He swallowed a gasp, and knew that Kaya had felt his excitement building, and had reacted to the feel of him moving against her stomach. In return, he drove her against the wall, needing her supple body hard against his, and the press of those full, firm breasts against his chest. She wedged her knee between his, and he returned the favor.

Admittedly, his experience with this aspect of a romantic relationship was limited to the night before he'd been changed by Dr. Erskine. But he couldn't think about that now, couldn't think about her. Not while he and Kaya were making their first real push toward being fully intimate. But this closet was neither the time nor the place for it. A woman like her deserved more than to be taken in a closet filled with gauze, and tape, and syringes.

Kaya deserved romantic dinners, moonlight strolls, and dancing before they went to bed together. That thought fled, along with every other in his head when she yanked his shirt from his pants, and her hands rubbed up under it over the muscles of his chest. But she didn't stop there.

~~O~~

While their mouths and tongues battled, Kaya came to a decision that would forever change hers and Steve's relationship, sending it soaring to a higher level. Kaya pulled his hands from under the edge of her top so she could remove her white coat. It fell to the floor in a jangle of keys, and the stethoscope she kept in the right pocket. By then, she had hold of the bottom edge of his shirt, and was lifting it until he had to raise his arms.

"Kaya, what're you…"

She stopped him with a hard, and fiery kiss, and backing off just enough to whisper a demand, "I must have you, Steven. Now!"

He finished the job of removing the shirt, leaving him bare chested. And to her delight, Steve then put his nimble fingers to work on the buttons of her top. While he did that, she traced the muscles of his upper abdomen, and chest, loving the play of firm skin, and the light dusting of hair through the middle.

The front of her top parted, and he just stood there, wide-eyed at seeing her favorite purple lace and satin bra with the front closure. "Wow."

They kissed again, and he turned slightly to the side so he could trace one finger along the upper edge, down in the middle, and over the other side. His touch fanned the flame of her desire into an inferno that threatened to consume her here and now.

Kaya's hand flew to the waist of Steve's pants, opened the belt buckle, and pushed the button through the hole it revealed. She grasped the tab of the zipper, and drew it down to the bottom at the same time she felt him grasp the closure on the front of her bra between finger and thumb.

Their mouths and tongues engaged once more, as Kaya slid her hands beneath the loosened material of his pants to push them off his hips.

TBC