Chapter Text
Maria Hill was seven years old when she learned what love was. It wasn’t the stuff of romance movies, or a crush on a classmate. There weren’t roses, stolen kisses, midnight declarations where it’s raining and he’s standing out your window. Asking if you had loved him back, and you were meant to say yes, I do.
She remembers being fascinated with the idea, love. It was the most magical thing she had heard of, that people would do insane things out of the idea of love. She had vowed that she would find a girl that would love her like the movies, swaying her out of her feet.
Nothing would come between seven year old Maria and finding her one true love.
Then she remembered her father existed.
He walked in on a Thursday night at 8pm. To her shock, he seemed somewhat sober. And he had walked up to her, gave Maria the biggest (and only) hug she would receive from him and sat her down on the couch.
“Maria.” He started, with the same infliction he had used to explain where her mother was. She noticed that he could never really look her in the eyes, fixating on anything else but her. He was shaking his legs, bouncing up and down and squeezing her hands real hard.
Eventually, he looked up and said: “You know I love you right?”
She didn’t.
If she was being truthful with herself, it was the first time he had told her. It was nothing she expected, out of naivety she wanted it to be told every night she went to bed, every time she left the house.
“And because I love you,” He said again with such stark warmthness she hadn’t known for years, “Sometimes I can’t be the parent you deserve. I go away sometimes. And I get that, but you can’t tell anyone.”
Maria nodded, promising that she wouldn’t. “Sometimes Della’s mom leaves for work. Is it like that?”
“Exactly like that sweetie. Daddy has a secret job that you can’t tell anyone about.”
“Not even Della?”
“Not even Della.” He repeated firmly.
She held up her pinkie, and he linked with hers. “Pinkie promise.”
When she was younger she never got why her father had seemed sad when he promised her back, shouldn’t he be glad that his daughter wasn’t going to tattle on him?
Eventually, Maria only realised it's the guilt that led to them on that couch on a Thursday. This wasn’t out of love, fear, regret. It was out of guilt.
The guilt doesn’t last long, because the next day he’s back out spending his days at the bar, drowning himself in alcohol.
Maria would eventually grow up, work after school at the local Italian restaurant where they only paid pity on her and move out.
Joined the Marines for a stint, then left after the closest thing she had to a mother died. Della flies back into Chicago with her tanned skin. She’ll sign the death certificate, inherit the apartment they once lived in, and fly out the day of her mother's funeral.
Annie would’ve laughed and said “ That’s Della! ”.
The next time she’s in Chicago, she’s signing her father’s death certificate. He didn’t leave a will, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. There was little they had.
She spreads his ashes at the bar he called home and sells the apartment. Collects the childhood diary she once wrote in, tucks her mother’s jewellery box into her bag and leaves for New York.
She prays that she’ll never have to visit Chicago again.
***
She’s considering firing this round's batch of SHIELD trainees; the amount of write ups seem to grow every hour.
If she deals with another occurrence of insubordination she will not hold herself accountable for the friendly and spirited talk they’ll have with her.
(She’ll probably get written up for threatening language, but that’s beside the point.)
Maria’s on her fourth cup of coffee within the last two hours when her phone rings. It might be the fatigue taking over or just complete delusion, she reluctantly answers the call.
“This is Maria.”
“Maria Hill?” The voice on the other end asks. “I’m Janice with St. Bradbury Hospital. Your wife is currently in surgery.”
What the fuck.
She’s chalking it down to exhaustion when she doesn’t fully register what on earth is going on, Janice seems to keep talking and asking questions and Maria is planted in her apartment, unmoving.
Because it seems impossible that Natasha Romanoff is injured to the point of surgery.
There’s an ongoing joke between them, of Natasha’s reluctance to seek medical attention when she really needs it, it’s been too many times where she’s slapped a bandage and called it a day. She’s coined a term for it: pulling a Romanoff.
It doesn’t matter how many times Maria reminds her that death by blood loss is a real thing, thank you , but she’ll still pretend that the twisted ankle will heal overnight.
So when she receives a call that Natasha is injured to the point of hospitalisation and surgery, it’s all she can do but to drop everything and fly the twenty long hours down to Australia.
So she does. Because that’s what good wives do right?
***
Fury insists that May flies to Australia with her and she doesn’t push back, because it’s 4am. She’s too tired to start a well planned argument why she’s fully capable of running this by herself.
And of course Jemina Simmons has managed to find her way onto the Quinjet.
It’ll be good for Natasha to have someone with medical knowledge, May had said.
She’s not actually sure if Simmons is that type of doctor but she doesn’t fight it.
They’re about six hours in when Maria snaps.
“May.” She took off the headset and looked at her. “I’m fine. Stop babying me.”
“You know, I’m surprised it took this long. I would’ve broken hours earlier.” She replies, annoyingly ignoring her statement.
“Oh, fuck off.” She slumps in her seat. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
When May doesn’t respond she continues. “We are professional. We are adults.” She states, more for herself than anything. “Millions of people have been in the same position as us.”
“None of them are trained assassins turned Avenger and the Deputy Director of a major national security organisation.”
“No shit.”
After a beat, May speaks up again. “I know this is hard. We’re here for you.”
Maria studies May’s face for any sign of malice before sighing in defeat. “Thanks for your unwavering support.”
“Fuck.” She sighs, leaning back in her chair. “How is it that everyone in SHIELD has a perfect relationship but me?” At May’s confused glance she expands. “You and Phil. Laura and Clint. Hell, even Fitz and Simmons.”
“Well, that’s because we chose to be together. You two were essentially forced into a relationship.” May replies. “You were bound to fall apart sooner or later.”
“Yeah, the sooner or later was seven years of my life.” Maria puffs out.
Her phone goes off before May has a chance to respond.
Pepper Potts: Tell me why I had to hear from Tony who heard from Cho who heard from Coulson that Natasha is in hospital. In Australia. And that you are flying down to see her.
Maria Hill: Sorry, did you want me to CC you the next time this happened?
Pepper Potts: Maria.
Maria Hill: It’s fine. I have May.
Pepper Potts: Alright. I’m only a text away if you want to talk about anything.
“Everything alright?” May asks. “If you want, I can deal with Natasha.”
Maria contemplates it, but eventually shakes her head. “No. I’ll be fine.”
May looks over like she doesn’t believe Maria. “Alright.”
***
Steve’s a big believer in the rules. He understands why they exist and he’s pretty okay with following them if they make sense. Sam however doesn’t care as much for the rules.
So when Sam walks up to the nurse’s desk for the third time in the hour, Steve doesn’t bother stopping him. He figures that the nurse, (he thinks their name was Wen?) will end up stopping Sam anyway.
"Ren you don’t get it, we’re her only family!” He hears Sam argue. The other nurse steps in when Ren (close enough) looks like they’re seriously considering throwing both of them out.
Sam walks back and slumps back into his chair, crossing his arms huffing.
“Same response?” He asks after a minute.
“Yep. Seriously, this whole confidentiality agreement is bullshit.” He mutters, looking around for anyone nearby to eavesdrop. “We’re the freaking Avengers, man! I’m sure that holds more weight than whoever her god damn emergency contact is.”
Steve doesn’t say anything, just silently nods. Sam doesn’t seem to have anything to offer, and goes in search of decent food and coffee.
He thinks it’s been another four hours when Sam tries again to see Natasha. Ren is having a whole argument with Sam, he’s glad that there’s no one around when Maria Hill walks in.
Melinda May is trailing her, eyeing down Steve and Sam before Maria passes her the two bags she walked in with.
She passes over ID from her wallet before the nurse leads her back down the forbidden hallway.
“Alright.” May chucks the bags at them, along with two phones. “We have ten minutes before we’re back up in the air.”
“You have two minutes to change. You then have four minutes to call whomever is on SHIELD’s pre approved list.” Sam raises his hand, but May cuts him off. “Yes, that includes your sister and nephews.”
She plants herself to the chairs opposite them and crosses her arms. After a moment, when they don’t move, she raises an eyebrow.
“Well? We don’t have all day.”
***
Maria barely registers Sam and Steve’s existence before May has them ushered to the jet whilst she talks with Natasha’s doctors. She signs the forms, insisting that yes, we do know what we’re doing, we understand that it’s against medical advice.
It’s the little self restraint she has left not to tell them that she’s going to Wakanda, a nation marginally better in every aspect.
She says a silent prayer when she walks into Natasha’s room to find her still asleep under the anesthetic. It would’ve been the wrong place and time for them to battle it out again.
Janice and another nurse; Ren, help her move Natasha to the lift and onto the helipad. Just before they leave, Janice squeezes their hand quickly.
“Ah.” Maria can’t help but notice. “Are you two together?” At Janice’s confused look, she explains quickly. “It’s just that me and my partner used to do that.”
She nods, though still seemingly confused at Maria’s explanation. “We’ve been together for four years. Got married four months ago.”
“Congratulations.” She replies sincerely.
“Thanks. How about you two?” Janice replies nicely.
Of course people think you’re together Maria. Don’t act shocked.
“Um, about seven years in November.”
“Ah!” Janice squeaks happily. “My wife, they always say we might kill each other before we hit five years of marriage.” Maria smiles tightly at her story. “So, what’s the secret?”
“The secret?” She laughs uncomfortably. “There’s no secret. You just gotta trust each other.” She follows up quickly.
Luckily she’s spared any more uncomfortable questions by Janice when the elevator finally makes it up to the rooftop. Steve’s planted outside and helps wheel a still-sleeping Natasha into the makeshift medbay on the jet.
After a last minute checklist by Janice on her medications and treatment plan, they’re up in the air for another ten hour flight to Wakanda. May seems alright flying solo for the moment, so she plants herself on the chairs across from Sam and Steve.
“So? How did Romanoff end up halfway across the world with a gunshot wound in her shoulder, another in her thigh and end up in a public hospital where all three of you are internationally wanted criminals?” She asks expectantly.
Sam is almost hit in the head by a folder when Maria throws the files over the lack of a response. Steve (annoyingly) catches it even whilst he's preoccupied without whatever's more interesting on the ground.
Looking through the files, it’s a compilation of his actions during his time as an Avenger. “I could sue you for assault, you know?” He jokes.
“I had to convince Ren not to press assault charges against you. Your little tirade against them was not well received. Shocker.” Maria replies unimpressed. “Now, will you tell me what happened or you both will fund my retirement once I turn you into Ross.”
“It’s not our fault that Natasha got shot, Maria.” Steve offers, like she’s a fucking child.
Maria bites her tongue, summoning all the willpower not to throw him out of the plane right now. “That’s funny, I like that. You know it’s fine that you didn’t like the Accords. But don’t go dragging everyone else into your little mess.”
“Everyone here, including Natasha , is here by their own choice. I don't force anyone to join my little mess.” He replies back, face hardening as he sets out for a fight he intends to win.
“God, how I would love to be as naive as you are right now.” Maria laughs out. She’s not sure if it’s the sleep deprivation or the absolute comical nature of a conversation she’s having right now, she’s abandoned all plans to stay somewhat professional.
“When you make a decision, there will always be someone behind you to clean it up. There will always be someone who has to deal with your little mess.”
“You started a whole fucking war Steve. In a fucking German airport. Had to make it harder for us, didn't you?” She mutters. “SHIELD doesn’t exactly have much influence on the German government.”
“And because you threw a big tantrum about the Accords, Natasha, Wilson, Maximoff and Vision now have to deal with living anywhere but home.”
She walks closer and leans in, towering over Steve. “You took away mine. You took away mine too. I was happy with my life, then you went away and swooped up probably the only person I care about. And you broke us.”
“So you don’t get to sit here and pretend that you’re the moral protagonist in this story, and you don’t get to be angry with me when I start antagonising you.” She inhales sharply. “Don’t act surprised when we stop cleaning up the messes you made and the world no longer sees you as their hero.”
“She’s right, you know.” They both whip their heads to find the source of the voice when Natasha is being wheeled in by a very guilty Simmons behind her.
She wheels herself closer to Steve, maintaining eye contact with him. Maria thinks this might be the few times where he’s truly intimidated by her. “She’s really holding back her words right now, but frankly I’m drugged up on the morphine and I don’t give a fuck.”
“She can sit there and antagonise you, and you can’t act shocked when your actions have consequences much further than you thought. I bought into the whole idea that you believed that you could do no wrong, but you are so blinded by always being right. I mean— fuck Steve, no one expects you to be perfect— hell knows I’m not, but you have a responsibility not to hurt people. And you’ve hurt a lot, with or without the shield, including the woman in front of you.”
“You can only run so far before the past catches up to you Steve.” She turns to face Maria. “I mean, I tried running away from our shitty marriage and it clearly didn’t work!” She laughs out, to the avail of no one. “I’m currently on a plane with my ex-wife and two gunshot wounds in me.” She continues, blissfully unaware (or maybe aware, it’s hard to tell) that she’s dropped a major bomb onto her colleagues who definitely weren’t aware of their marriage.
And just when she thought all hell had fallen loose: Natasha fucking Romanoff collapses on the floor.
Always for the drama.