FANDOM: Avengers
TITLE: A Woman Of Edges (1/2)
SUMMARY: "I'm beginning to think you're the most terrifying woman I've met." Learning to like, live with, and love Maria Hill.
RATING: G
CATEGORY: Action, Drama, Friendship, Developing Romance, Women Being Awesome, Non-Romantic Romance.
WORD COUNT: ~12,700
WARNINGS: (highlight to see) None
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, making no money, etc.
NOTES: This started off as a Five Times fic, then took a sharp right into Stuck In The Middle Of Nowhere With Each Other before trying to head for Undercover Lovers. It nearly became an Avengers Try To Give Steve Dating Advice With Expected Results but managed to avoid that, and now I have no idea What Kind Of Story It Is.
Thanks so much to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chiroho and ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
infinimato for the beta!
A Woman Of Edges
The world is getting weirder by the week. Sometimes Steve thinks it's getting weirder by the hour. And then there are some things that feel so familiar, he just wants to curl up in them and forget that he's seventy years out of time.
"...so with the knowledge that your team-mates were en route, you decided that the for-want-of-a-better-word-we're-calling-it-a-dragon needed taking on right that instant?"
His brain feels slightly fuzzy, but his eyes are working perfectly well – and his ears, more's the pity. And Steve's pretty sure that he's been here before. Maybe when he was six or seven and being told off by Miss Millard back in Brooklyn for...something he no longer remembers.
It's that blend of stern martinet and exasperated adult which Lieutenant Hill does so impressively - and impassively.
Steve's never seen a woman do scathing with such clipped coolness.
You always wanted to be a soldier and now you are - just like all the rest.
Oh, wait. He has.
And, if he thinks about it, he had a small crush on Miss Millard back when he was seven, too.
Lieutenant Hill has paused for breath, and perhaps it's the poison in his system and maybe he's been hanging around Stark too long, but what comes out of Steve's mouth isn't even close to contrition.
"I didn't know you cared, Lieutenant."
The look she gives him would scorch desert sand, but her voice is crisp and biting. "Captain, you're a useful tool, and one which SHIELD isn't minded to lose the use of. As such, your physical, mental, and emotional well being is our concern. So yes," she agrees with infuriating calm, "I care."
Movement behind her catches Steve's eye - Stark and Barton at the window, with Stark mouthing, 'Need a rescue from the iron SHIELD maiden?' Barton murmurs something to Stark, who rears back as though in alarm.
And Lieutenant Hill, realising she no longer has Steve's attention, turns to regard the window behind her. "And the peanut gallery arrives." She turns back to Steve. "Next time, Captain, try not to be so eager to get yourself killed."
She's all edges and lines, marble heart beneath linen uniform, steel will behind seafoam eyes...but there's a wryness in her voice and the shadow of a quirk to her mouth. After a moment of silence, in which she raises her brow, Steve realises he's staring and drops his gaze to her collar.
"Yes, ma'am."
She doesn't quite roll her eyes as she leaves, but Barton murmurs something and gets a shake of the head in answer.
"Such a merry little sunshine," says Stark a split-second behind the click of the door closing. "I've never understood her problem."
Steve's gaze meets Barton's whose mouth quirks as he shrugs. Stark's in that kind of a mood. Steve settles for saying, "She doesn't like superpowers."
"Really? And Fury's got her babysitting us?"
"Not all of us."
"Oh, that stings. Nice job, by the way. I never thought you had it in you." Stark smirks. "I'm referring, of course, to your limelight hog – the star spangled spandex looked great for the cameras, although I don't think Lieutenant Pill was very impressed with it."
Steve nearly retorts that he wasn't out to impress Lieutenant Hill, then sees the twinkle in Stark's eye and realises he's being baited.
"Are you okay?" Barton voices the question Stark hasn't actually asked yet.
"Even after the dressing down by the Pill?"
"I'm fine." He still feels a little light-headed – just because his metabolism works faster than any human's doesn't mean he's not susceptible to poisons. They just don't affect him as much - and he wears off the effects faster. "And the Lieutenant was just doing her job, Stark."
"I thought her job was to be Fury's echo chamber."
Barton snorted, leaning one hip against the foot of the bed. "Hill will go up against Fury if she thinks it's warranted. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's impressive."
"Really? She thinks?"
"Stark." Steve frowns at Tony. "Let it go."
"I'm just saying--"
"You always are," Steve retorts. "Leave it."
"He's very protective," Stark says to Barton, as though in explanation.
"I'm seeing that." Barton studies Steve for a moment, then shrugs, as though it's of no importance. And it's not. Steve just doesn't like seeing Lieutenant Hill mocked by Stark when she's in no position to retort. It's fairness, plain and simple. "We actually came to break you out of here, Cap. You interested?"
There's something about the way Barton says it. Steve narrows his eyes. "Do I want to know what you've done - or are about to do?"
"Probably not." The smile slides onto the archer's face. "But it'll be fun."
'Fun' involves a medical emergency that Stark assures them is real but not dangerous; Barton playing decoy at least once; and Natasha sitting in the shuttle cockpit with her legs stretched out, calmly ticking off the pre-flight checks.
But the part Steve enjoys most is when Natasha is reporting their shuttle flight outbound for San Francisco, and the cool female voice at the other end gives them the go-ahead without hesitating. "Shuttle 413, you are cleared for takeoff to San Francisco. Keep to starboard on the outbound, and tell Rogers not to fight any more dragons while he's out on the West Coast. Or, if he must, at least call Stark in to play sidekick."
Stark turns to stare at the cockpit, with a rare look of astonishment on his face. Steve grins all the way to the mainland.
-oOo-
"Lieutenant?"
Maria wakes to a throbbing headache and the sickening aroma of ozonic air, burned oil, and fresh blood. Her shoulders ache in the harness that's holding her off the floor, and the shuttle cabin seems to lurch a little as she blinks smoky tears from her eyes.
"Rogers?"
He's struggling out of his harness on the other side of the cabin, handsome, honest face concerned as he stands uncertainly before finding his feet. "Are you injured? Let me--"
Rogers reaches up, and Maria lets him help her down from the harness, warm hands on her hips, warm chest against her as she slides down until her feet are on the ground. He apologises for putting his hands on her; she doesn't apologise for enjoying the feel of him against her - if only for a moment. It's only a moment, though. There's work to be done.
"Check Katumi and Waters," Maria tells him, heading for the back of the shuttle. "I'll check the secondary systems. We have to get out of here as soon as possible."
"There's no way this thing can still fly." He says as he picks his way up to the cockpit.
He's probably right. Still, Maria pulls down an auxiliary system and begins entering passcodes and prompts as though her life depends on it. It very well might. Whoever brought the shuttle down is still out there. "They're dead," Rogers looks grim and bitter. Maria knows how that feels; she just can't give in to it right now. "Are you calling for help?"
"Not from here." She takes a deep breath. "Take their tags and get the survival packs out – they're under seats two and three from the front, unlock code 'A749F'."
He hesitates, but does as she says, and she's thankful for the lack of questions. All her concentration is going into what she's doing on the auxiliary systems, watching for the prompt, there, now...
The screen goes blank and the auxiliary control unit of the shuttle pops out of its slot. Maria takes it and tucks it in her breast pocket as Rogers hands her one of the two packs.
"Why aren't we staying with the shuttle?"
"Because someone brought us down in the middle of the Swiss Alps for a reason." Maria goes to one of the storage compartments, pulls out a package and tucks it in the pack before strapping it on. "Whoever they are, they'll be looking for us."
He frowns a little. "You're sure of that?"
"No," she tells him, because she's worked out that honesty is usually the best policy when dealing with Steve Rogers. "But the first rule for any SHIELD operative is to assume that nothing is due to bad luck."
"Should I ask about the second rule?"
"Get out alive. Worry about the mission later."
He starts putting on the pack, at least, leaving her free to raid the weapons locker. "Is it my imagination or does SHIELD have a very bad case of paranoia?"
Maria gives a half-laugh as she takes out a couple of handguns, checking the magazines and gathering up replacements for them. "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you."
"Doesn't it hurt, thinking like that all the time?" He pulls out his shield from one of the storage compartments.
The comment stings, only half mocking. "You were working with British Intelligence in the Second World War for most of your career; your Dr. Erskine died because of an infiltrator in the SSR, and you've never practised paranoia?"
"I didn't have to, I guess. My focus was on HYDRA – and Schmidt didn't do subtle."
Maria bites back the retort that he was lucky, but can't resist from saying, "Welcome to the modern world."
As the shuttle ramp opens, she shivers briefly at the first whip of the Alpine wind.
"Don't want to rethink this?" Rogers asks, a wince on his face.
"Want to? Yes. Going to? No."
They strike out into the snow, Maria initially taking the lead as they pick their way across the icy rock, heading for a more sheltered face of the mountain. It's hard going all the way, the wind sharp as a knife, the cold leaking through the layers of clothing, seeping into her flesh and bones.
Rogers doesn't say much until they pause in a hollow that's just out of the wind. "Got a plan?"
"Not much of one. Don't die. Find a bolthole. Get a message out to SHIELD."
"You're right; that's not much of a plan." He glances up at the sky, proud profile stark against the growing clouds in the northwest, the rim of his shield gleaming dully against his back. "We should probably keep going. There's a storm coming. We'll want to be somewhere more sheltered before it hits."
"You've had more experience here in Europe than I have. Can you lead?"
He glances at her, surprised. "That was seventy years ago."
"Seventy years ago or not, it's more experience than I've had in terrain survival."
"But you brought us out here in the first place." Rogers doesn't make it a challenge the way someone like Stark might have, but there's still a question there. Maria figures she should answer it. They're going to be a few days in company; better to get everything cleared and squared now.
"I know SOP for what to do when a shuttle is brought down," she replies, fighting down the edge in her voice. "We were attacked; whoever attacked us will be looking for us. I owe it to SHIELD to keep myself, the shuttle data, and you out of the hands of SHIELD's enemies. So, yes, I took us out of the shuttle, because staying in there was operationally riskier than coming out here."
"You'd rather die in a storm than risk enemies getting hold of me?"
"If we fall into enemy hands I'm dead anyway," Maria tells him. It's not a pleasant thought, but it's one she's faced before and one that she'll face again before her career is over - assuming she's not destined to die out here in the Swiss Alps, an icicle until the end of time. "At least I know you'll survive being frozen. What?"
Rogers is shaking his head, something like a smile hovering about his lips. "I'm beginning to think you're the most terrifying woman I've met."
-oOo-
The corridors of the helicarrier are dark when they step out of the auxiliary control room that Lieutenant Hill co-opted as headquarters of the resistance with her last two orders being to 'initiate dogwood state' and 'call the muse'.
"Are you going to give me the background on Gittes, then?" Steve asks as the door locks shut behind the chatter and clatter of the techs trying to regain systems control of the helicarrier.After what started as a visit from a US military contingent turned into a struggle for control of one of the most advanced pieces of human technology on the planet.
For a moment, it looks like she's debating whether he needs to know. "Lieutenant Colonel Jonathon Gittes would call himself a patriot," she says at last. "He believes that SHIELD should be a wholly American force, under US jurisdiction and autonomous from any other national or international group, council, or organisation."
Once, Steve might have thought the same. But the America he's woken up in is not the America he grew up in, and the shades of grey grow with every passing day. He's not sure he likes the idea of this shadowy council trying to control SHIELD; on the other hand, having met more than a few modern American 'patriots' after the Chitauri invasion, Steve definitely doesn't want to see them in control of SHIELD.
He believes in America, but he'd fight for all humanity. These people believe that the only country worth protecting is America and the only people worth saving are Americans. Steve can't make that right in his head no matter which way he twists it.
"Is he willing to kill people to make it so?"
"Apparently."
Something in her voice makes Steve glance at her profile. "What?"
"Director Fury's been at odds with the Council ever since the New York incursion when he backed the Avengers initiative."
"You think the Council would put an American nationalist in control of SHIELD?"
She exhales, and the cool mask slips, showing grim frustration and a pained uncertainty. "I think that this is a set up for a double-cross. Gittes and his people make the initial move, and then another player takes them down while they're still consolidating power." The blue-green of her eyes sharpens as she catches his disbelieving expression. "This is an intelligence organisation, Captain. I can't discount the possibility."
"I didn't say a thing."
"You don't have to; you're thinking it."
"I'm here, aren't I?"
She glances at him, surprised, and her expression softens into amusement. "And I'm glad of it. You make good cannon fodder, Captain."
"So nice to be appreciated."
She certainly 'appreciates' him, if the next hour of confrontations are anything to go by. Maria Hill seems to have no compunction about using him as bait, a distraction, a rallying point, a bodyguard, and once, as a targeting range-finder.
Steve's had closer calls, but somehow this is at once more exhilarating and more terrifying - relying on the shooting skills of a woman who doesn't even like what he is. "Good shooting," he says as the man behind him collapses.
"Barton gives good lessons." She replaces the clip with a spare stashed in her inside breast pocket, and looks up to find him watching her. "What?"
"I'm trying to work you out," he confesses. "You don't like superpowers, but you'll be the liaison for the Avengers. You took it so coolly when those pilots died in the Alps, but you made sure you brought back Katumi's present for his daughter. You say I'm just a tool, and treat me like cannon fodder, but you were willing to risk your life to keep me out of enemy hands."
He didn't plan on saying quite that much, but the woman is an enigma wrapped up in a puzzle, and topped with a great big red ribbon on top.
Her brows arch. "Maybe I defy definition?"
"You're defying something." Steve says, exasperated and frustrated and confused. "If I could only work out what."
She laughs then - a real, open laugh like he's never heard from her before. But they've been at this for nearly two hours now, moving through the twists and turns of the helicarrier, maintaining comms silence so as not to alert Gittes and his people of their location, taking out Gittes men and the rogue agents who joined his cause, and setting up the loyalists for the attack to take back the main control space. Maybe proximity has softened her edges.
And maybe not.
The next enemy encounter involves a squad of six. Steve only manages to take out half of them; Maria shoots two and punches the third out.
But one of them isn't quite down. "Target Prime located, SV-465—" Her booted foot slams into the side of his head and the voice falls silent.
"That," she says with quiet venom, "is for Annapurna, Goldman, you rat bastard."
"Friend of yours?"
"I keep my friends close and my enemies closer."
"I'd ask what I am, but I'm not sure I want to know the answer." Steve's only half joking.
And now they're hunted, thanks to Agent Goldman. And it seems Gittes certainly believes in keeping his enemies close; the renegades keep coming for them, and although they make a good team, their luck can only last them so long.
They're ushered ungently into the control room of the helicarrier, where a man with silvering hair turns from Fury's customary position. "Captain Rogers, Lieutenant Hill. You've caused my forces a lot of trouble."
The tone is smooth, the expression urbane. If they'd met at one of Stark's functions, Steve would think the guy nothing more than one more of the military still trying to persuade Tony back into weapons manufacturing. The dog cage at the end of the walk and the man chained inside it like a beast says otherwise.
Steve's gut locks in revulsion. Even enemies should be treated with dignity; put down like dogs at the worst, not treated like them.
Forced to crouch by the dimensions of the cage, stripped of his clothing and his eyepatch, Nick Fury stares impassively out of one dark eye, uncowed by his humiliation.
"Pleased to be of assistance," Steve tells Gittes, seeing as Maria's not going to answer. He doesn't need to look at her to know she's probably vibrating with rage. The head of SHIELD should be respected for the position, if nothing else.
"You know, it doesn't have to be like this. You're a sensible man and a patriot, Captain. You can surely see that SHIELD needs a guiding hand upon it – a strong hand at the controls – not some gaggle of old women who've never seen bloodshed and the cost of war. Fury plays politics and people die; is that the kind of organisation you want to work for?"
"No," Steve says, and knows it for the truth. "But we had a saying back in my day; sometimes the cure is worse than the disease. And, frankly, Colonel, I'd rather work with the disease than swallow your cure."
Gittes nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. "As I more or less expected." He nods at one of the men standing by – a former agent, if his suit is anything to go by. The man draws his weapon and points it at Maria's head. "Unfortunately, you're not as easy to dispose of as, say, Lieutenant Hill, which means you'll be remaining with us as a guest for some time."
"Wait—" Steve begins, but Maria doesn't flinch. Instead, she steps up to the weapon, bringing her temple in contact with the muzzle of the gun.
"Virginia Potts Protocol, code 4119, initiate!"
Cries rise around the room as Gittes' people lose control of the system. There's a buzz and a howl, and an arrow protrudes through the wrist holding the gun at Maria's head, as something else slices through the lock on Fury's cage with a metallic scrape. Gunfire rings out as precision shots from up high take out the agents around the room. Steve seizes the opportunity to take out his own guards.
When he's done, Maria has her gun trained on Gittes. "Try it," she says in answer to something Gittes' snarled at her, her voice infuriatingly cool. "Please."
"Lieutenant." Fury unfolds himself, filling the room with his presence in spite of his nakedness. "Status report."
Steve silently offers Fury one of the weapons appropriated from his guards, and the old soldier takes it with a nod. The scar tissue in and around the ruined eye is distinctly disconcerting, but Steve doesn't look away, according the wound – and Fury - what it's due.
"We have control of the helicarrier thanks to the 4119 protocol; a system check is presently being initiated, and pockets of resistance are being subdued. And someone's bringing you a coat."
"I guess we'll chalk this one up to stupidity, Colonel?" Fury addresses Gittes.
"You can't evade forever, Fury," Gittes snarls. "Sooner or later one of us will get you and the little bitch-pup you've been leash-training."
It takes Steve a moment to realise that the 'bitch pup' in question is Maria, who looks more amused than insulted.
"Considering Lieutenant Hill and her associates took down you and your crack troops without breaking a sweat. I wouldn't be so fast with the insults." Fury doesn't even hesitate as Natasha walks through the doors and around the conference table, her face cool and inscrutable as she holds up a long black coat for the SHIELD director to shrug into. "And you already know I don't keep SHIELD agents on leashes, Gittes. They're far more effective off them."
Steve happens to be looking at Maria at that moment, and catches the briefest of smirks on her lips. More a baring of teeth than a smile, it's bright, just a little feral, and breath-stealingly stunning.
And it's that moment when Steve realises he might be in trouble.
-oOo-
The clan are already at the diner when she arrives, tucked into the back corner and making their usual racket. She nods at the hostess who's coping with another family of rowdies, and makes for her family.
"Holy shit, Mars!" Jonathan's voice rises above the others as he spots the bruise on her cheek. "What happened to you?"
The whole table turns to look at her – Anna and five of Maria's six siblings. In fact, half the diner turns to look, and Maria rolls her eyes as she takes a seat. "Thank you for broadcasting that, Jonny. I really wanted everyone staring at me."
"It looks awful," says Paul, from the wide-eyed and appreciative perspective of twelve years of age. Then, because he's at the wide-eyed and appreciative age of twelve, he adds,"Does the other guy look worse?"
"Paul!" Maria's stepmother frowns, but is careful as she turns Maria's head for a kiss on the cheek without commenting on the bruising. "We're glad you could make it."
In spite of the circumstances surrounding the bruise, so is Maria. Now that her father's dead and she doesn't have to endure the sting of old bitterness every time she sees Anna and the children, seeing her family is actually quite a pleasant experience, from Paul's attempts to monopolise the conversation, to Michaela's snarky comments about college life and her roommate.
And, of course, there's Anna to keep everything in a semblance of calm.
Dave and Jonny are in the middle of telling her all about the aftermath of the hockey game where they apparently not only beat the opposing team until they were black and blue and begging for mercy but also stole the girlfriends of the captain and keeper when Esther – previously quiet and unforthcoming and willing to let her siblings out-talk her – says in a sudden rush, "There's a man over at the window staring at you, Mars."
Once again, the entire table turns to look.
Maria meets the embarrassed blue gaze of Steve Rogers under an ancient Brooklyn Dodgers cap, and feels a flush crawl over her skin at the same times as a bloom of outrage grows in her gut. "Stay here," she says in the tone that usually cows prisoners, fellow-agents, and newbies, but which she is fairly certain won't work on her siblings – at least, not for very long.
It feels like the length of the helicarrier across the diner to the broad-shouldered man who, in spite of his skillset, history, and fame, still manages to seem self-effacing in person.
"How's the hamburger?"
"Not great. Although," he adds, "I think it's better than the humble pie I'm about to eat."
Maria exhales. "I know this may be hard for you and Barton and Natasha to comprehend, but I am not in need of a bodyguard. Even after this." She points at the bruise on her jaw and cheekbone, care of an unfortunate encounter with someone who took offence to her handling of the Gittes' takeover attempt.
The irony is that she didn't take the helicarrier back for Fury's sake; she took it back because there was no way she was going to let SHIELD fall into the hands of extremists.
Steve winces. "Once more, with subtlety?"
"You're Avengers. It's not exactly in the job description." Maria sighs. Then wants to sigh again when she hears a squeak from across the room. "You've been recognised. You'd better come over before all hell breaks loose."
"I've seen hell break loose," he reminds her as he puts his napkin aside.
"You haven't met my family," Maria retorts.
Actually, her family behave quite well. The eyes are huge and the 'hellos' awed, but they're...subdued. Terrifyingly so.
Of course Anna asks him to join them, and of course Steve looks at her first, and of course Maria can't very well say no when half her family (Anna, David, Esther) are staring at her like she's just been nominated for President, and the other half (Michaela, Jonny, Paul) are staring at Steve like Jesus Christ has just come and sat down at their table.
"First rule of fight club," Maria says to her siblings before they get over their awe and start pelting him with questions. "We don't talk about fight club."
"Aww, Mars!"
"Captain Rogers is here for lunch," she tells Paul, who she suspects will be the big offender. "And you are not going to pester him with every inane question you can think of."
There are groans and protests, but they know her – and they know their mom, who won't tolerate any shenanigans.
"So...Captain Rogers," Anna says, "How do you know Maria?"
"Work."
"You work with Cap--" Paul's mouth has Esther's hand over it before he can finish the sentence.
"She's never said anything about working with you." Michaela's tone comes out distinctly accusatory - not at Steve, but at Maria. There'll be recriminations later - the relationship between Maria and Michaela has always been adversarial at best. Maria was always the older one, the clever, independent one who did what she pleased and was damned for it, while Michaela was their father's favourite, petted and adored. The street of sibling envy goes two ways.
But Steve just smiles, darting a quick, almost sly glance her way. "Well, I don't think Maria likes working with me much."
"That's not true," she says immediately. Then, because he's giving her an arch look, she adds, "You make good cannon fodder."
"Cannon fodder?" Jonny exclaims. "She uses you as cannon fodder?"
"On occasion."
Her family looks like someone's smacked them in the back of the head with Mjolnir. And Steve is smiling - at them and at her - and Maria thinks he shouldn't.
Not like that.
Not sitting in a diner at a table with a bunch of strangers who are her family, at a time when Maria isn't being 'Lieutenant Hill' or 'Avengers Liaison' or 'Fury's bitch-pup' or any of the other people she is when she needs to be.
As a general rule, Maria doesn't like superheroes - or, rather, she doesn't like what their presence does to the minds of 'ordinary humans'. She doesn't want SHIELD - or the planet - to become reliant on them; and sees being the liaison to the Avengers as a way of limiting the damage Fury and Phil did when they created their superhero boy-band (complete with token girl).
Personally, Maria could take or leave Captain America; but she likes Steve Rogers.
She just kind of wishes she didn't.
-oOo-
One thing hasn't changed in seventy years: it's still no easier to ask a woman out.
Steve's not even sure he should.
Peggy is gone, like the world he saved and lost when he brought the Valkyrie down in the ice. If she were here-- But she's not. She lived her life and died her death, and from all accounts it was a full and beautiful life and a calm and quiet death, and although it hurts in a strange, selfish part of him, Steve is glad she didn't mourn forever.
But he regrets they only ever had that one kiss.
He doesn't want to regret not taking the chance to love a woman again, but neither does he want to upset the way things are.
And he learned a lot from watching Maria with her family – a lot about where she came from, about the people she loves. He saw who she was when she wasn't working, and got an idea of some of the scars she carries beneath her skin.
"You like her." The older of the twins had managed to get a moment alone with Steve while the rest of the family was trying to say goodbye to Maria. Dave Hill had looked at Steve with the same sea-coloured eyes as Maria, the same piercing gaze, the same adamantium determination.
"Yeah, I do."
The boy's lips pressed together for a moment. "If you hurt my sister, I will find a way to make you hurt, too."
"I'll do my best not to hurt her, then."
Steve didn't dismiss the threat. The young man is powerless, yes, but he's serious – and Maria's brother. And the warning isn't about power or dominance or masculinity; it's about a guy looking out for someone he loves.
Steve respects that.
And then there's the Avengers, the fact that the world still occasionally needs saving, and that Maria is still the SHIELD liaison for the team. She doesn't seek Steve out for any particular attention, and he's careful not to give her the impression that he knows where she is and what she's doing, even when he does.
Still, when the elevator doors at Avengers Tower open to show her tapping furiously away at a tablet screen, Steve feels a jolt in his belly.
"A meeting with Tony?"
"Unfortunately. Although at least Banner was there this time."
"Less shouting?"
"We never shout. We just argue. Endlessly." She exhales as the doors slide shut behind him, a huff of frustration that eases as she surveys him. Briskly, not in the way he'd like, but Steve will live with what he's given when it comes to Maria Hill. "Going out?"
He hefts the helmet. "Yeah, I thought I'd head upstate to Bear Mountain. Clear my brain for a while." Something like envy flickers across her face, inspiring him to ask, "Would you like to come along?"
Her lips twitch, as though it's a joke. "Oh, sure. Let me just grab my riding gear and we'll—" She pauses. "You're serious."
"Shouldn't I be?"
"No, I just—I didn't—"
Her cheeks colour a little. Hope rises, an incorrigible bubble of elation.
"Do you have anything else on this afternoon?"
Maria hesitates, and they reach the ground floor. The doors open on the lobby – all polished marble and ostentatious gilt, filled with the clack of heels and the murmur of business conversation. Steve puts out his arm to hold the doors back, but waits for her answer.
"I don't have any gear," she says as the elevator doors begin to beep.
Steve grins as he drops his arm and lets the doors close, taking them down to the parking garage. "We'll work something out."
Twenty minutes later they're weaving in and out of New York traffic, headed across the Hudson and then upstate. Helmeted and jacketed, Maria presses up against his back as the wind comes in off the river and a smile finds Steve's lips as they ride smoothly along the highway, leaving New York City behind.
He'd only had an hour's ride in mind, a quick push out of the city, into the suburbs – a change of place and a change of pace. But they cross the George Washington Bridge, and head up through Bergen County, and Maria doesn't say anything, doesn't tap him on the shoulder or give any signs that she wants to stop, just leans against his back as the bike eats up the miles of the Palisades Parkway.
Steve's enjoying the ride so much, he doesn't really notice how fast they're going until the siren burls behind them.
He pulls over, guiltily. "I didn't realise," he murmurs as Maria climbs off, her absence leaving his back chilly.
"I thought we were going a little fast," she says as she tugs off her helmet and runs a hand through her hair. She let it down so it would fit under the helmet, and it curls about her throat with a sunlit sheen of copper beneath the dense brown. "Unfortunately, I don't think I can get you out of this."
"I wouldn't ask you to."
The cop strides up, harried behind his sunglasses. "Licence and registration, please."
Steve meekly hands over his licence and the bike's registration. If he were Tony, he'd argue, but he's not Tony and he was breaking the law.
"Did you ever get a ticket back home?" Maria asks, turning her head a little as a light gust of wind tries to pull her hair across her face, and giving him a nice look at the line of her jaw.
Steve snorts. Partly because 'back home' was pretty much just on the other side of the river, and partly because the idea of getting ticketed for speeding back in those days was…well, not unheard of, just…uncommon.
"Not really. The roads weren't as good, and cars were becoming more common, but still luxury goods after the Depression." He glances up the long, smooth stretch of highway, remembering the road that used to pass through here. "You wouldn't want to do even fifty-five on the road here back then."
"Holy shit."
The cop's exclamation is reverent, and Steve frowns at the wide-eyed man, wondering why the guy is staring… Oh.
"You… You're that Captain America guy, right?"
Maria gives a little cough that's almost certainly hiding a laugh. Steve glares at her. He could lie, of course, but the man has his licence and his name, and there's not really any point.
"Officer—"
"Jesus H. Christ," the man breathes. "I mean, sorry about my language, sir, it's just… Thank you. I have to say that, because, I mean, goddamn, that was amazing— What you and the Avengers—" He breaks off and looks at Maria slightly accusingly as though wondering why she's not Natasha.
"It was no-- We were doing our job, Officer. Just like you."
"But—But—I can't issue you a ticket, sir!"
Maria's teeth are probably leaving marks in her jawbone, she's biting her lip so hard. Steve gives her a 'do you want to help here?' look and receives a 'no, I'm going to sit back and laugh' look in return. He figures friendly and polite is the way to go. "I—That's very kind of you, Officer, but—"
"No! God, no. I mean, shit, I'd never hear the end of it if I gave Captain America a ticket." The licence and registration papers are nearly shoved back into Steve's hands. "I… I'm Greg Holmes, sir. Can I just say, it's a real honour to meet you? After the alien invasion and everything. My daughter was in the city that day –one of the lucky ones. Came out without a scratch. But we'd all have been in trouble if not for you guys. And I... Would it be too much to ask…?"
He offers the ticket book and pen.
Steve signs the ticket with his name on it, smiles, makes the expected small talk about family - the man's wife, daughter and sons, and oh-so-gently, extricates himself from the conversation with the now-obsequious cop. It takes a good ten minutes.
"And I didn't even have to open my mouth to get you off the ticket," Maria says when Officer Holmes finally walks away. A grin peeps out of the twitching smile that plays around her mouth. The flash of it is brutal as a punch to the gut back in a Brooklyn alleyway.
Still, he thinks he manages to sound calm. "Get back on the bike," he tells her, and she does, her mouth still quivering with amusement.
For the rest of the ride up to the State Park, though, Steve can feel her laughter against his shoulder.
to Part 2
TITLE: A Woman Of Edges (1/2)
SUMMARY: "I'm beginning to think you're the most terrifying woman I've met." Learning to like, live with, and love Maria Hill.
RATING: G
CATEGORY: Action, Drama, Friendship, Developing Romance, Women Being Awesome, Non-Romantic Romance.
WORD COUNT: ~12,700
WARNINGS: (highlight to see) None
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, making no money, etc.
NOTES: This started off as a Five Times fic, then took a sharp right into Stuck In The Middle Of Nowhere With Each Other before trying to head for Undercover Lovers. It nearly became an Avengers Try To Give Steve Dating Advice With Expected Results but managed to avoid that, and now I have no idea What Kind Of Story It Is.
Thanks so much to
chiroho and infinimato for the beta!I ain't never been nothin' but tough
All my edges have always been rough
~ Kellie Pickler 'Tough'~
All my edges have always been rough
~ Kellie Pickler 'Tough'~
The world is getting weirder by the week. Sometimes Steve thinks it's getting weirder by the hour. And then there are some things that feel so familiar, he just wants to curl up in them and forget that he's seventy years out of time.
"...so with the knowledge that your team-mates were en route, you decided that the for-want-of-a-better-word-we're-calling-it-a-dragon needed taking on right that instant?"
His brain feels slightly fuzzy, but his eyes are working perfectly well – and his ears, more's the pity. And Steve's pretty sure that he's been here before. Maybe when he was six or seven and being told off by Miss Millard back in Brooklyn for...something he no longer remembers.
It's that blend of stern martinet and exasperated adult which Lieutenant Hill does so impressively - and impassively.
Steve's never seen a woman do scathing with such clipped coolness.
You always wanted to be a soldier and now you are - just like all the rest.
Oh, wait. He has.
And, if he thinks about it, he had a small crush on Miss Millard back when he was seven, too.
Lieutenant Hill has paused for breath, and perhaps it's the poison in his system and maybe he's been hanging around Stark too long, but what comes out of Steve's mouth isn't even close to contrition.
"I didn't know you cared, Lieutenant."
The look she gives him would scorch desert sand, but her voice is crisp and biting. "Captain, you're a useful tool, and one which SHIELD isn't minded to lose the use of. As such, your physical, mental, and emotional well being is our concern. So yes," she agrees with infuriating calm, "I care."
Movement behind her catches Steve's eye - Stark and Barton at the window, with Stark mouthing, 'Need a rescue from the iron SHIELD maiden?' Barton murmurs something to Stark, who rears back as though in alarm.
And Lieutenant Hill, realising she no longer has Steve's attention, turns to regard the window behind her. "And the peanut gallery arrives." She turns back to Steve. "Next time, Captain, try not to be so eager to get yourself killed."
She's all edges and lines, marble heart beneath linen uniform, steel will behind seafoam eyes...but there's a wryness in her voice and the shadow of a quirk to her mouth. After a moment of silence, in which she raises her brow, Steve realises he's staring and drops his gaze to her collar.
"Yes, ma'am."
She doesn't quite roll her eyes as she leaves, but Barton murmurs something and gets a shake of the head in answer.
"Such a merry little sunshine," says Stark a split-second behind the click of the door closing. "I've never understood her problem."
Steve's gaze meets Barton's whose mouth quirks as he shrugs. Stark's in that kind of a mood. Steve settles for saying, "She doesn't like superpowers."
"Really? And Fury's got her babysitting us?"
"Not all of us."
"Oh, that stings. Nice job, by the way. I never thought you had it in you." Stark smirks. "I'm referring, of course, to your limelight hog – the star spangled spandex looked great for the cameras, although I don't think Lieutenant Pill was very impressed with it."
Steve nearly retorts that he wasn't out to impress Lieutenant Hill, then sees the twinkle in Stark's eye and realises he's being baited.
"Are you okay?" Barton voices the question Stark hasn't actually asked yet.
"Even after the dressing down by the Pill?"
"I'm fine." He still feels a little light-headed – just because his metabolism works faster than any human's doesn't mean he's not susceptible to poisons. They just don't affect him as much - and he wears off the effects faster. "And the Lieutenant was just doing her job, Stark."
"I thought her job was to be Fury's echo chamber."
Barton snorted, leaning one hip against the foot of the bed. "Hill will go up against Fury if she thinks it's warranted. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's impressive."
"Really? She thinks?"
"Stark." Steve frowns at Tony. "Let it go."
"I'm just saying--"
"You always are," Steve retorts. "Leave it."
"He's very protective," Stark says to Barton, as though in explanation.
"I'm seeing that." Barton studies Steve for a moment, then shrugs, as though it's of no importance. And it's not. Steve just doesn't like seeing Lieutenant Hill mocked by Stark when she's in no position to retort. It's fairness, plain and simple. "We actually came to break you out of here, Cap. You interested?"
There's something about the way Barton says it. Steve narrows his eyes. "Do I want to know what you've done - or are about to do?"
"Probably not." The smile slides onto the archer's face. "But it'll be fun."
'Fun' involves a medical emergency that Stark assures them is real but not dangerous; Barton playing decoy at least once; and Natasha sitting in the shuttle cockpit with her legs stretched out, calmly ticking off the pre-flight checks.
But the part Steve enjoys most is when Natasha is reporting their shuttle flight outbound for San Francisco, and the cool female voice at the other end gives them the go-ahead without hesitating. "Shuttle 413, you are cleared for takeoff to San Francisco. Keep to starboard on the outbound, and tell Rogers not to fight any more dragons while he's out on the West Coast. Or, if he must, at least call Stark in to play sidekick."
Stark turns to stare at the cockpit, with a rare look of astonishment on his face. Steve grins all the way to the mainland.
"Lieutenant?"
Maria wakes to a throbbing headache and the sickening aroma of ozonic air, burned oil, and fresh blood. Her shoulders ache in the harness that's holding her off the floor, and the shuttle cabin seems to lurch a little as she blinks smoky tears from her eyes.
"Rogers?"
He's struggling out of his harness on the other side of the cabin, handsome, honest face concerned as he stands uncertainly before finding his feet. "Are you injured? Let me--"
Rogers reaches up, and Maria lets him help her down from the harness, warm hands on her hips, warm chest against her as she slides down until her feet are on the ground. He apologises for putting his hands on her; she doesn't apologise for enjoying the feel of him against her - if only for a moment. It's only a moment, though. There's work to be done.
"Check Katumi and Waters," Maria tells him, heading for the back of the shuttle. "I'll check the secondary systems. We have to get out of here as soon as possible."
"There's no way this thing can still fly." He says as he picks his way up to the cockpit.
He's probably right. Still, Maria pulls down an auxiliary system and begins entering passcodes and prompts as though her life depends on it. It very well might. Whoever brought the shuttle down is still out there. "They're dead," Rogers looks grim and bitter. Maria knows how that feels; she just can't give in to it right now. "Are you calling for help?"
"Not from here." She takes a deep breath. "Take their tags and get the survival packs out – they're under seats two and three from the front, unlock code 'A749F'."
He hesitates, but does as she says, and she's thankful for the lack of questions. All her concentration is going into what she's doing on the auxiliary systems, watching for the prompt, there, now...
The screen goes blank and the auxiliary control unit of the shuttle pops out of its slot. Maria takes it and tucks it in her breast pocket as Rogers hands her one of the two packs.
"Why aren't we staying with the shuttle?"
"Because someone brought us down in the middle of the Swiss Alps for a reason." Maria goes to one of the storage compartments, pulls out a package and tucks it in the pack before strapping it on. "Whoever they are, they'll be looking for us."
He frowns a little. "You're sure of that?"
"No," she tells him, because she's worked out that honesty is usually the best policy when dealing with Steve Rogers. "But the first rule for any SHIELD operative is to assume that nothing is due to bad luck."
"Should I ask about the second rule?"
"Get out alive. Worry about the mission later."
He starts putting on the pack, at least, leaving her free to raid the weapons locker. "Is it my imagination or does SHIELD have a very bad case of paranoia?"
Maria gives a half-laugh as she takes out a couple of handguns, checking the magazines and gathering up replacements for them. "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you."
"Doesn't it hurt, thinking like that all the time?" He pulls out his shield from one of the storage compartments.
The comment stings, only half mocking. "You were working with British Intelligence in the Second World War for most of your career; your Dr. Erskine died because of an infiltrator in the SSR, and you've never practised paranoia?"
"I didn't have to, I guess. My focus was on HYDRA – and Schmidt didn't do subtle."
Maria bites back the retort that he was lucky, but can't resist from saying, "Welcome to the modern world."
As the shuttle ramp opens, she shivers briefly at the first whip of the Alpine wind.
"Don't want to rethink this?" Rogers asks, a wince on his face.
"Want to? Yes. Going to? No."
They strike out into the snow, Maria initially taking the lead as they pick their way across the icy rock, heading for a more sheltered face of the mountain. It's hard going all the way, the wind sharp as a knife, the cold leaking through the layers of clothing, seeping into her flesh and bones.
Rogers doesn't say much until they pause in a hollow that's just out of the wind. "Got a plan?"
"Not much of one. Don't die. Find a bolthole. Get a message out to SHIELD."
"You're right; that's not much of a plan." He glances up at the sky, proud profile stark against the growing clouds in the northwest, the rim of his shield gleaming dully against his back. "We should probably keep going. There's a storm coming. We'll want to be somewhere more sheltered before it hits."
"You've had more experience here in Europe than I have. Can you lead?"
He glances at her, surprised. "That was seventy years ago."
"Seventy years ago or not, it's more experience than I've had in terrain survival."
"But you brought us out here in the first place." Rogers doesn't make it a challenge the way someone like Stark might have, but there's still a question there. Maria figures she should answer it. They're going to be a few days in company; better to get everything cleared and squared now.
"I know SOP for what to do when a shuttle is brought down," she replies, fighting down the edge in her voice. "We were attacked; whoever attacked us will be looking for us. I owe it to SHIELD to keep myself, the shuttle data, and you out of the hands of SHIELD's enemies. So, yes, I took us out of the shuttle, because staying in there was operationally riskier than coming out here."
"You'd rather die in a storm than risk enemies getting hold of me?"
"If we fall into enemy hands I'm dead anyway," Maria tells him. It's not a pleasant thought, but it's one she's faced before and one that she'll face again before her career is over - assuming she's not destined to die out here in the Swiss Alps, an icicle until the end of time. "At least I know you'll survive being frozen. What?"
Rogers is shaking his head, something like a smile hovering about his lips. "I'm beginning to think you're the most terrifying woman I've met."
The corridors of the helicarrier are dark when they step out of the auxiliary control room that Lieutenant Hill co-opted as headquarters of the resistance with her last two orders being to 'initiate dogwood state' and 'call the muse'.
"Are you going to give me the background on Gittes, then?" Steve asks as the door locks shut behind the chatter and clatter of the techs trying to regain systems control of the helicarrier.After what started as a visit from a US military contingent turned into a struggle for control of one of the most advanced pieces of human technology on the planet.
For a moment, it looks like she's debating whether he needs to know. "Lieutenant Colonel Jonathon Gittes would call himself a patriot," she says at last. "He believes that SHIELD should be a wholly American force, under US jurisdiction and autonomous from any other national or international group, council, or organisation."
Once, Steve might have thought the same. But the America he's woken up in is not the America he grew up in, and the shades of grey grow with every passing day. He's not sure he likes the idea of this shadowy council trying to control SHIELD; on the other hand, having met more than a few modern American 'patriots' after the Chitauri invasion, Steve definitely doesn't want to see them in control of SHIELD.
He believes in America, but he'd fight for all humanity. These people believe that the only country worth protecting is America and the only people worth saving are Americans. Steve can't make that right in his head no matter which way he twists it.
"Is he willing to kill people to make it so?"
"Apparently."
Something in her voice makes Steve glance at her profile. "What?"
"Director Fury's been at odds with the Council ever since the New York incursion when he backed the Avengers initiative."
"You think the Council would put an American nationalist in control of SHIELD?"
She exhales, and the cool mask slips, showing grim frustration and a pained uncertainty. "I think that this is a set up for a double-cross. Gittes and his people make the initial move, and then another player takes them down while they're still consolidating power." The blue-green of her eyes sharpens as she catches his disbelieving expression. "This is an intelligence organisation, Captain. I can't discount the possibility."
"I didn't say a thing."
"You don't have to; you're thinking it."
"I'm here, aren't I?"
She glances at him, surprised, and her expression softens into amusement. "And I'm glad of it. You make good cannon fodder, Captain."
"So nice to be appreciated."
She certainly 'appreciates' him, if the next hour of confrontations are anything to go by. Maria Hill seems to have no compunction about using him as bait, a distraction, a rallying point, a bodyguard, and once, as a targeting range-finder.
Steve's had closer calls, but somehow this is at once more exhilarating and more terrifying - relying on the shooting skills of a woman who doesn't even like what he is. "Good shooting," he says as the man behind him collapses.
"Barton gives good lessons." She replaces the clip with a spare stashed in her inside breast pocket, and looks up to find him watching her. "What?"
"I'm trying to work you out," he confesses. "You don't like superpowers, but you'll be the liaison for the Avengers. You took it so coolly when those pilots died in the Alps, but you made sure you brought back Katumi's present for his daughter. You say I'm just a tool, and treat me like cannon fodder, but you were willing to risk your life to keep me out of enemy hands."
He didn't plan on saying quite that much, but the woman is an enigma wrapped up in a puzzle, and topped with a great big red ribbon on top.
Her brows arch. "Maybe I defy definition?"
"You're defying something." Steve says, exasperated and frustrated and confused. "If I could only work out what."
She laughs then - a real, open laugh like he's never heard from her before. But they've been at this for nearly two hours now, moving through the twists and turns of the helicarrier, maintaining comms silence so as not to alert Gittes and his people of their location, taking out Gittes men and the rogue agents who joined his cause, and setting up the loyalists for the attack to take back the main control space. Maybe proximity has softened her edges.
And maybe not.
The next enemy encounter involves a squad of six. Steve only manages to take out half of them; Maria shoots two and punches the third out.
But one of them isn't quite down. "Target Prime located, SV-465—" Her booted foot slams into the side of his head and the voice falls silent.
"That," she says with quiet venom, "is for Annapurna, Goldman, you rat bastard."
"Friend of yours?"
"I keep my friends close and my enemies closer."
"I'd ask what I am, but I'm not sure I want to know the answer." Steve's only half joking.
And now they're hunted, thanks to Agent Goldman. And it seems Gittes certainly believes in keeping his enemies close; the renegades keep coming for them, and although they make a good team, their luck can only last them so long.
They're ushered ungently into the control room of the helicarrier, where a man with silvering hair turns from Fury's customary position. "Captain Rogers, Lieutenant Hill. You've caused my forces a lot of trouble."
The tone is smooth, the expression urbane. If they'd met at one of Stark's functions, Steve would think the guy nothing more than one more of the military still trying to persuade Tony back into weapons manufacturing. The dog cage at the end of the walk and the man chained inside it like a beast says otherwise.
Steve's gut locks in revulsion. Even enemies should be treated with dignity; put down like dogs at the worst, not treated like them.
Forced to crouch by the dimensions of the cage, stripped of his clothing and his eyepatch, Nick Fury stares impassively out of one dark eye, uncowed by his humiliation.
"Pleased to be of assistance," Steve tells Gittes, seeing as Maria's not going to answer. He doesn't need to look at her to know she's probably vibrating with rage. The head of SHIELD should be respected for the position, if nothing else.
"You know, it doesn't have to be like this. You're a sensible man and a patriot, Captain. You can surely see that SHIELD needs a guiding hand upon it – a strong hand at the controls – not some gaggle of old women who've never seen bloodshed and the cost of war. Fury plays politics and people die; is that the kind of organisation you want to work for?"
"No," Steve says, and knows it for the truth. "But we had a saying back in my day; sometimes the cure is worse than the disease. And, frankly, Colonel, I'd rather work with the disease than swallow your cure."
Gittes nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. "As I more or less expected." He nods at one of the men standing by – a former agent, if his suit is anything to go by. The man draws his weapon and points it at Maria's head. "Unfortunately, you're not as easy to dispose of as, say, Lieutenant Hill, which means you'll be remaining with us as a guest for some time."
"Wait—" Steve begins, but Maria doesn't flinch. Instead, she steps up to the weapon, bringing her temple in contact with the muzzle of the gun.
"Virginia Potts Protocol, code 4119, initiate!"
Cries rise around the room as Gittes' people lose control of the system. There's a buzz and a howl, and an arrow protrudes through the wrist holding the gun at Maria's head, as something else slices through the lock on Fury's cage with a metallic scrape. Gunfire rings out as precision shots from up high take out the agents around the room. Steve seizes the opportunity to take out his own guards.
When he's done, Maria has her gun trained on Gittes. "Try it," she says in answer to something Gittes' snarled at her, her voice infuriatingly cool. "Please."
"Lieutenant." Fury unfolds himself, filling the room with his presence in spite of his nakedness. "Status report."
Steve silently offers Fury one of the weapons appropriated from his guards, and the old soldier takes it with a nod. The scar tissue in and around the ruined eye is distinctly disconcerting, but Steve doesn't look away, according the wound – and Fury - what it's due.
"We have control of the helicarrier thanks to the 4119 protocol; a system check is presently being initiated, and pockets of resistance are being subdued. And someone's bringing you a coat."
"I guess we'll chalk this one up to stupidity, Colonel?" Fury addresses Gittes.
"You can't evade forever, Fury," Gittes snarls. "Sooner or later one of us will get you and the little bitch-pup you've been leash-training."
It takes Steve a moment to realise that the 'bitch pup' in question is Maria, who looks more amused than insulted.
"Considering Lieutenant Hill and her associates took down you and your crack troops without breaking a sweat. I wouldn't be so fast with the insults." Fury doesn't even hesitate as Natasha walks through the doors and around the conference table, her face cool and inscrutable as she holds up a long black coat for the SHIELD director to shrug into. "And you already know I don't keep SHIELD agents on leashes, Gittes. They're far more effective off them."
Steve happens to be looking at Maria at that moment, and catches the briefest of smirks on her lips. More a baring of teeth than a smile, it's bright, just a little feral, and breath-stealingly stunning.
And it's that moment when Steve realises he might be in trouble.
The clan are already at the diner when she arrives, tucked into the back corner and making their usual racket. She nods at the hostess who's coping with another family of rowdies, and makes for her family.
"Holy shit, Mars!" Jonathan's voice rises above the others as he spots the bruise on her cheek. "What happened to you?"
The whole table turns to look at her – Anna and five of Maria's six siblings. In fact, half the diner turns to look, and Maria rolls her eyes as she takes a seat. "Thank you for broadcasting that, Jonny. I really wanted everyone staring at me."
"It looks awful," says Paul, from the wide-eyed and appreciative perspective of twelve years of age. Then, because he's at the wide-eyed and appreciative age of twelve, he adds,"Does the other guy look worse?"
"Paul!" Maria's stepmother frowns, but is careful as she turns Maria's head for a kiss on the cheek without commenting on the bruising. "We're glad you could make it."
In spite of the circumstances surrounding the bruise, so is Maria. Now that her father's dead and she doesn't have to endure the sting of old bitterness every time she sees Anna and the children, seeing her family is actually quite a pleasant experience, from Paul's attempts to monopolise the conversation, to Michaela's snarky comments about college life and her roommate.
And, of course, there's Anna to keep everything in a semblance of calm.
Dave and Jonny are in the middle of telling her all about the aftermath of the hockey game where they apparently not only beat the opposing team until they were black and blue and begging for mercy but also stole the girlfriends of the captain and keeper when Esther – previously quiet and unforthcoming and willing to let her siblings out-talk her – says in a sudden rush, "There's a man over at the window staring at you, Mars."
Once again, the entire table turns to look.
Maria meets the embarrassed blue gaze of Steve Rogers under an ancient Brooklyn Dodgers cap, and feels a flush crawl over her skin at the same times as a bloom of outrage grows in her gut. "Stay here," she says in the tone that usually cows prisoners, fellow-agents, and newbies, but which she is fairly certain won't work on her siblings – at least, not for very long.
It feels like the length of the helicarrier across the diner to the broad-shouldered man who, in spite of his skillset, history, and fame, still manages to seem self-effacing in person.
"How's the hamburger?"
"Not great. Although," he adds, "I think it's better than the humble pie I'm about to eat."
Maria exhales. "I know this may be hard for you and Barton and Natasha to comprehend, but I am not in need of a bodyguard. Even after this." She points at the bruise on her jaw and cheekbone, care of an unfortunate encounter with someone who took offence to her handling of the Gittes' takeover attempt.
The irony is that she didn't take the helicarrier back for Fury's sake; she took it back because there was no way she was going to let SHIELD fall into the hands of extremists.
Steve winces. "Once more, with subtlety?"
"You're Avengers. It's not exactly in the job description." Maria sighs. Then wants to sigh again when she hears a squeak from across the room. "You've been recognised. You'd better come over before all hell breaks loose."
"I've seen hell break loose," he reminds her as he puts his napkin aside.
"You haven't met my family," Maria retorts.
Actually, her family behave quite well. The eyes are huge and the 'hellos' awed, but they're...subdued. Terrifyingly so.
Of course Anna asks him to join them, and of course Steve looks at her first, and of course Maria can't very well say no when half her family (Anna, David, Esther) are staring at her like she's just been nominated for President, and the other half (Michaela, Jonny, Paul) are staring at Steve like Jesus Christ has just come and sat down at their table.
"First rule of fight club," Maria says to her siblings before they get over their awe and start pelting him with questions. "We don't talk about fight club."
"Aww, Mars!"
"Captain Rogers is here for lunch," she tells Paul, who she suspects will be the big offender. "And you are not going to pester him with every inane question you can think of."
There are groans and protests, but they know her – and they know their mom, who won't tolerate any shenanigans.
"So...Captain Rogers," Anna says, "How do you know Maria?"
"Work."
"You work with Cap--" Paul's mouth has Esther's hand over it before he can finish the sentence.
"She's never said anything about working with you." Michaela's tone comes out distinctly accusatory - not at Steve, but at Maria. There'll be recriminations later - the relationship between Maria and Michaela has always been adversarial at best. Maria was always the older one, the clever, independent one who did what she pleased and was damned for it, while Michaela was their father's favourite, petted and adored. The street of sibling envy goes two ways.
But Steve just smiles, darting a quick, almost sly glance her way. "Well, I don't think Maria likes working with me much."
"That's not true," she says immediately. Then, because he's giving her an arch look, she adds, "You make good cannon fodder."
"Cannon fodder?" Jonny exclaims. "She uses you as cannon fodder?"
"On occasion."
Her family looks like someone's smacked them in the back of the head with Mjolnir. And Steve is smiling - at them and at her - and Maria thinks he shouldn't.
Not like that.
Not sitting in a diner at a table with a bunch of strangers who are her family, at a time when Maria isn't being 'Lieutenant Hill' or 'Avengers Liaison' or 'Fury's bitch-pup' or any of the other people she is when she needs to be.
As a general rule, Maria doesn't like superheroes - or, rather, she doesn't like what their presence does to the minds of 'ordinary humans'. She doesn't want SHIELD - or the planet - to become reliant on them; and sees being the liaison to the Avengers as a way of limiting the damage Fury and Phil did when they created their superhero boy-band (complete with token girl).
Personally, Maria could take or leave Captain America; but she likes Steve Rogers.
She just kind of wishes she didn't.
One thing hasn't changed in seventy years: it's still no easier to ask a woman out.
Steve's not even sure he should.
Peggy is gone, like the world he saved and lost when he brought the Valkyrie down in the ice. If she were here-- But she's not. She lived her life and died her death, and from all accounts it was a full and beautiful life and a calm and quiet death, and although it hurts in a strange, selfish part of him, Steve is glad she didn't mourn forever.
But he regrets they only ever had that one kiss.
He doesn't want to regret not taking the chance to love a woman again, but neither does he want to upset the way things are.
And he learned a lot from watching Maria with her family – a lot about where she came from, about the people she loves. He saw who she was when she wasn't working, and got an idea of some of the scars she carries beneath her skin.
"You like her." The older of the twins had managed to get a moment alone with Steve while the rest of the family was trying to say goodbye to Maria. Dave Hill had looked at Steve with the same sea-coloured eyes as Maria, the same piercing gaze, the same adamantium determination.
"Yeah, I do."
The boy's lips pressed together for a moment. "If you hurt my sister, I will find a way to make you hurt, too."
"I'll do my best not to hurt her, then."
Steve didn't dismiss the threat. The young man is powerless, yes, but he's serious – and Maria's brother. And the warning isn't about power or dominance or masculinity; it's about a guy looking out for someone he loves.
Steve respects that.
And then there's the Avengers, the fact that the world still occasionally needs saving, and that Maria is still the SHIELD liaison for the team. She doesn't seek Steve out for any particular attention, and he's careful not to give her the impression that he knows where she is and what she's doing, even when he does.
Still, when the elevator doors at Avengers Tower open to show her tapping furiously away at a tablet screen, Steve feels a jolt in his belly.
"A meeting with Tony?"
"Unfortunately. Although at least Banner was there this time."
"Less shouting?"
"We never shout. We just argue. Endlessly." She exhales as the doors slide shut behind him, a huff of frustration that eases as she surveys him. Briskly, not in the way he'd like, but Steve will live with what he's given when it comes to Maria Hill. "Going out?"
He hefts the helmet. "Yeah, I thought I'd head upstate to Bear Mountain. Clear my brain for a while." Something like envy flickers across her face, inspiring him to ask, "Would you like to come along?"
Her lips twitch, as though it's a joke. "Oh, sure. Let me just grab my riding gear and we'll—" She pauses. "You're serious."
"Shouldn't I be?"
"No, I just—I didn't—"
Her cheeks colour a little. Hope rises, an incorrigible bubble of elation.
"Do you have anything else on this afternoon?"
Maria hesitates, and they reach the ground floor. The doors open on the lobby – all polished marble and ostentatious gilt, filled with the clack of heels and the murmur of business conversation. Steve puts out his arm to hold the doors back, but waits for her answer.
"I don't have any gear," she says as the elevator doors begin to beep.
Steve grins as he drops his arm and lets the doors close, taking them down to the parking garage. "We'll work something out."
Twenty minutes later they're weaving in and out of New York traffic, headed across the Hudson and then upstate. Helmeted and jacketed, Maria presses up against his back as the wind comes in off the river and a smile finds Steve's lips as they ride smoothly along the highway, leaving New York City behind.
He'd only had an hour's ride in mind, a quick push out of the city, into the suburbs – a change of place and a change of pace. But they cross the George Washington Bridge, and head up through Bergen County, and Maria doesn't say anything, doesn't tap him on the shoulder or give any signs that she wants to stop, just leans against his back as the bike eats up the miles of the Palisades Parkway.
Steve's enjoying the ride so much, he doesn't really notice how fast they're going until the siren burls behind them.
He pulls over, guiltily. "I didn't realise," he murmurs as Maria climbs off, her absence leaving his back chilly.
"I thought we were going a little fast," she says as she tugs off her helmet and runs a hand through her hair. She let it down so it would fit under the helmet, and it curls about her throat with a sunlit sheen of copper beneath the dense brown. "Unfortunately, I don't think I can get you out of this."
"I wouldn't ask you to."
The cop strides up, harried behind his sunglasses. "Licence and registration, please."
Steve meekly hands over his licence and the bike's registration. If he were Tony, he'd argue, but he's not Tony and he was breaking the law.
"Did you ever get a ticket back home?" Maria asks, turning her head a little as a light gust of wind tries to pull her hair across her face, and giving him a nice look at the line of her jaw.
Steve snorts. Partly because 'back home' was pretty much just on the other side of the river, and partly because the idea of getting ticketed for speeding back in those days was…well, not unheard of, just…uncommon.
"Not really. The roads weren't as good, and cars were becoming more common, but still luxury goods after the Depression." He glances up the long, smooth stretch of highway, remembering the road that used to pass through here. "You wouldn't want to do even fifty-five on the road here back then."
"Holy shit."
The cop's exclamation is reverent, and Steve frowns at the wide-eyed man, wondering why the guy is staring… Oh.
"You… You're that Captain America guy, right?"
Maria gives a little cough that's almost certainly hiding a laugh. Steve glares at her. He could lie, of course, but the man has his licence and his name, and there's not really any point.
"Officer—"
"Jesus H. Christ," the man breathes. "I mean, sorry about my language, sir, it's just… Thank you. I have to say that, because, I mean, goddamn, that was amazing— What you and the Avengers—" He breaks off and looks at Maria slightly accusingly as though wondering why she's not Natasha.
"It was no-- We were doing our job, Officer. Just like you."
"But—But—I can't issue you a ticket, sir!"
Maria's teeth are probably leaving marks in her jawbone, she's biting her lip so hard. Steve gives her a 'do you want to help here?' look and receives a 'no, I'm going to sit back and laugh' look in return. He figures friendly and polite is the way to go. "I—That's very kind of you, Officer, but—"
"No! God, no. I mean, shit, I'd never hear the end of it if I gave Captain America a ticket." The licence and registration papers are nearly shoved back into Steve's hands. "I… I'm Greg Holmes, sir. Can I just say, it's a real honour to meet you? After the alien invasion and everything. My daughter was in the city that day –one of the lucky ones. Came out without a scratch. But we'd all have been in trouble if not for you guys. And I... Would it be too much to ask…?"
He offers the ticket book and pen.
Steve signs the ticket with his name on it, smiles, makes the expected small talk about family - the man's wife, daughter and sons, and oh-so-gently, extricates himself from the conversation with the now-obsequious cop. It takes a good ten minutes.
"And I didn't even have to open my mouth to get you off the ticket," Maria says when Officer Holmes finally walks away. A grin peeps out of the twitching smile that plays around her mouth. The flash of it is brutal as a punch to the gut back in a Brooklyn alleyway.
Still, he thinks he manages to sound calm. "Get back on the bike," he tells her, and she does, her mouth still quivering with amusement.
For the rest of the ride up to the State Park, though, Steve can feel her laughter against his shoulder.
to Part 2