When she wakes up with a jolt, it's to a sterile hospital room.

The sharp lights hurt her eyes but at least there is a gentle thrum of people outside her room.

Maria is on mattress that is definitely softer than rags on a rocky floor and doesn't quite feel right. There is a heart rate monitor off to the side somewhere and she focusses on the constant 'beep-beep' to distract her. Slowly but surely the beeping, along with her breathing begins to even out.

She can feel the hypersensitivity beginning to creep in; the way the bandages caught on the fabric of the blanket; the way her breathing felt laboured; the cold adhesive holding the monitors to her skin; how she could hear every little noise in her room and many outside of it; her mouth was dry.

Her body aches from the jolt that woke her and her head spins under the lights and she tries to remember what she had been dreaming about when she drops back onto the bed. Except she hadn't been dreaming, she had been having a nightmare.

They liked electricity, her captors. She shook for hours afterwards the first time they had tied her to a makeshift electro-shock machine. Her voice had gone hoarse because of the screaming.

"You're awake," came a voice from the corner. She hadn't seen them sitting there.

"Obviously," Maria snarled. It came out harsher than she intended it; the lights were stinging her eyes. "Lights. Off."

Seconds later the offending light had disappeared and slowly she could open her eyes to adjust better. Nick Fury was sitting in the visitor's chair.

"Sir," she said. Being in a hospital bed did not stop her from being the lower ranked agent in the room.

"No need to 'sir' me Hill. You're off duty," he smiled gently. It was rare considering that Maria didn't always agree with his decisions, and told him often.

"How long?" she asked. She could finally feel herself calming down enough, now that the lights were off. Although the ability to feel everything made her want to crawl out of her skin.

"You were M. I. A. for thirty-two days, you've been unconscious for three." He explained. "I'm sorry we didn't find you sooner. They were very good at hiding. Do you know where you are?"

Maria took a moment to breathe through the tightness in her chest. "My guess is D.C. SHIELD medical facility. Regardless of our opinions of each other, I doubt you would put the Deputy Director in a shotty hospital somewhere. And there is a SHIELD logo on my med charts."

"Observant for someone with optical hypersensitivity."

"It's not just my eyes."

"I know," he said sadly. "I caught the end of that nightmare."

Maria looks away embarrassed. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you." She had trouble reading him.

"How bad is it?" she asked. Maria had spent years working to conquer and control the feeling of fear, but the answer still scared her.

"Bad. Burns, abrasions and contusions on most of your body, your shoulder was dislocated when they found you, dehydrated and starved. And that's just the physical side. Your doctors are worried about the impact to your mental state." She sighed as he explained it, even though he didn't need to. She was there when it all happened and she remembers most of it. It was just as hard hearing it in a hospital. "But I suppose it could be worse."

"How the hell could this be worse?" Maria's throat was starting to feel dry.

"You could be dead."

'You have no idea how many times I wished for that,' she thought to herself. 'Just to make them stop.'

"Now that you're awake, your personal protection detail will begin."

"What? No. As soon as I'm cleared, I'm back on the Helicarrier, where I should be," she snapped.

He counted her. "But it may be a while before you're cleared. You're on forced medical leave with pay, of course, until you are cleared by all members of your medical team. And stop pouting. You're a grown woman, not a child."

"Well I feel like I just got grounded by dad," she said, shaking her head against the pillow. Her head was beginning to throb. "Who?"

"She was on the extraction team with Barton, helped to lead it, but I thought he might be a bad choice."

"Who?" she asked again.

"Romanov."