Steve Rogers had never been to Arizona. Before the war, he'd never been outside New York City. Back then, anything north of the George Washington Bridge might as well have been Canada to the sickly boy. Then came the war and the serum, a world of new possibilities and new places expanding before his eyes. And yet, despite the fame and the cross-country tour and the new body, it had felt wrong. He felt the same as he had back in New York. He felt like a prisoner, knowing what was going on overseas, knowing that others were giving their lives fighting for a better future while he was stuck stateside. Except the wasteful feeling got far worse after the serum, exacerbated by the knowledge that he could make a tremendous difference if given the opportunity.

It seemed like so long ago as Steve stood on the rim of the Grand Canyon, looking out at the magnificent work of nature. It was odd to think that the entirety of his existence, already spanning over a century, was nothing more than a tiny sliver of rock in the great layers of geologic time that marked the sides of the canyon. He was out of uniform, having left it and his shield back in New York. He wore nothing more than shorts and a Dodgers t-shirt, his feet sporting a beige pair of hiking boots instead of his combat ones.

The wind tousled Steve's blonde hair as he headed down into the canyon. Thankfully, it was empty, just as he'd intended when he searched for the most remote routes and hiking trails into the area. The tourism industry wasn't what it had been before the snap, but things were slowly rebounding as people acclimated to its reversal. It was a lot to adjust to, the global population halving only to be suddenly reassembled five years later. International organizations were still trying to get everything settled, even several weeks removed from everyone's resurrection. He'd helped for a while, after he'd finished putting the stones back and attending Natasha and Tony's funerals. As always, people looked to Captain America for steady leadership in uncertain times. The outcome was less painful to deal with than the snap. Nearly everyone was happy, even as they dealt with 3.5 billion people popping back into existence. But it wore on Steve, having to keep his strong front up, smiling for the cameras and saying all the things a leader was supposed to say. It was why he'd needed a break.

Steve marched easily as he descended into the canyon, the late afternoon sun making the portions of the immense walls it hit glow. Across the canyon, he could see the lookout points dotting the rim, where the few tourists not still adjusting to the momentous events of the past few months could gape at the scenery. It amazed him that some people would come all the way to the canyon without actually going down into it. It was incredible to look at from the rim, but going down into it, seeing the great rock formations rise above you and blot out more and more of the sky, was something else. He'd also never been one to run from a challenge.

It was dusk by the time Steve reached the bottom, having made the descent in half the time a normal person would have. The views were stunning. The descent had come in spurts as the trail wound its way down steep cliff faces before crossing long sections of sun-drenched plateaus that led to the next cliff. He gazed behind him at the last one he'd come down, a stark orange cliff turning brown in the fading light, dropping into a rocky slope dotted with hardy green underbrush that led to the Colorado River. The blue ribbon of water wound its way down the canyon and around an enormous rocky bend, continuing on across the rocks and deserts towards Nevada and California.

Steve pulled his water bottle out of his pack, having emptied it fairly quickly during his hike down, and knelt beside the gently flowing waters of the Colorado, filling his bottle. After it was done, he plunged his hands into the cool river, splashing the soothing water on his sweaty face. Beads dripped from his brow and the end of his nose as he glanced the other way down the river, surprised by the sight of a tent occupying a flat expanse of sand along the edge of the water. The super soldier squatted on his calves like a catcher, a bit confused by the sight. This section of the canyon had seemed deserted. He'd only found out about it thanks to the limitless digital libraries Stark Industries had given him access to.

Steve considered heading off down the river, following his earlier plan of getting some time by himself. And yet he couldn't deny the curious impulse to see who had the knowledge and hiking experience to join him in this remote section of the canyon. Steve stood up and dried his hands on the bottom of his t-shirt before making his way over to the small campsite.

"Hello?" he asked, glancing around, expecting someone to emerge from the tent and not wanting them to think he was trying to sneak up on them.

Instead, nobody answered. Steve glanced around, confused. The campsite had all the signs of recent activity. The basic black tent erected not far from the water, the small area cleared off in preparation for a campfire, the black tactical pack that closely resembled his own leaning against a nearby boulder. He rubbed the back of his neck, considering leaving the area. The last thing he wanted was for whoever was using this campsite to show up and think he was snooping through their stuff.

"Steve?" he heard a surprised but still controlled voice ask.

Steve turned to see none other than Maria Hill standing behind him, her arms full of firewood and grey-blue eyes assessing him.

"Agent Hill," Steve said, much more open in his surprise. He hadn't seen Maria since Natasha's funeral and hadn't expected to see her again for a while, especially not in a remote section of the Grand Canyon.

Maria's face, while not hostile, went into the stoic expression Steve had seen so many times before. "What are you doing here?" she asked bluntly, "I thought you were working with the United Nations."

"I was. I just...I needed a break from everything," Steve said, his right hand going to the strap of his backpack, "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be off on some secret mission with Fury by now."

"I probably should be," Maria said as she made her way into the campsite, dropping her load of firewood near the area she'd cleared off the hour before, "I guess I needed a break, too."

"Oh," Steve said, suddenly feeling awkward and glancing back down the river, "Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I was just surprised someone else would come down this way. I can go find–

"It's fine," Maria said, interrupting his apology, "I'm surprised to see you, but you're not someone I'm actively trying to avoid."

"Oh, well...thanks, I guess," Steve said as Maria kneeled, beginning to arrange the firewood in neat pile.

"Feel free to sit down," Maria offered as she stuffed some dry grass beneath the larger pieces of wood to serve as kindling.

"I don't want to intrude. I'm sure you didn't come down here to visit with old coworkers," Steve smiled self-deprecatingly.

To his surprise, Maria smiled slightly, glancing up at him from her fire-building. "It's alright. You can stay as long as you promise not to mention global security."

Steve laughed a bit. He didn't want to talk about work either. He'd come out to Arizona to get away from it, even taking his motorcycle to ensure that nobody could track him down before he was ready to return. Despite that, there was something comforting about seeing Maria alive and well. He'd felt that way about everybody who'd come back. Bucky, Sam, Wanda, T'Challa, Fury and all the others. Just being around them had felt good, knowing that it all hadn't been for nothing.

Steve removed his pack and sat down on the sand as Maria produced a lighter, swiftly setting fire to the kindling and blowing on it until the flames had spread to the rest of the wood. "I'm not sure why, but I really expected you to use a piece of flint."

Maria smirked. "I'm not the one who's afraid of technology," she said, arching an eyebrow at the super soldier.

"I am not afraid of technology," Steve retorted, crossing his arms.

"Your weapon of choice is something even the Ancient Greeks had."

"I think I've adapted fairly well," Steve said, narrowing his eyes at Maria. Despite her poker face, he could tell when she was messing with him.

"Whatever you say, Steve," Maria drawled as she pushed herself up and sat down a comfortable distance from the now roaring campfire.

The conversation dropped for a while as dusk settled over the bottom of the canyon. The chirps of crickets and the singing of the cicadas joining with the gentle sounds of the river. Every now and then, the fire would pop. Steve looked at Maria, as silent as a statue, her distinct blue-grey eyes lost in the flames as the carefully gathered wood was consumed.

"So, why the Grand Canyon?" Steve asked, hoping to revive their conversation.

Maria's eyes popped up from the fire for a moment before returning. "It's one of those places I always told myself I had to go, but just never took the time before now," Maria answered, poking the fire with a large stick she'd procured for precisely that purpose, "What about you? This something you always wanted to see?"

"Well, sure. I mean, I always thought I'd check it out at some point, but…" Steve paused for a moment, wondering if Maria actually had any interest in the conversation or if she was just too polite to tell him to go away. The lull caused her to look up. Steve swallowed as he saw the harsh scrutinizing lines leave her face, replaced instead by a look of earnest curiosity that gave him the push to continue, "To be honest, Bucky was the one was that always dreamed of checking it out."

"Really?" Maria's dark brows knitted, having a very difficult time imagining the former Winter Soldier ever taking the time to select vacation spots.

"It was before I lost him," Steve said, picking up on his companion's confusion, "He used to talk about it all the time during the war. He had this postcard that he'd show me, taken from the rim of the canyon. He'd look at it and talk about what it'd be like to go there after we got back home, to put down our weapons and take in some natural beauty that the war hadn't ruined. Looking back, it's kinda funny."

"Why?"

"Bucky and I are both New Yorkers through and through. The idea of us hiking through the wild terrain of Arizona is a little tough to imagine," Steve said, chuckling a bit.

Maria smirked and fixed him with a look that wasn't completely without humor. "If you two could handle Nazi-occupied Europe, you could certainly handle Arizona."

Steve laughed a bit at the agent's words as he recalled those events from so long ago, how they had all inexplicably led him to where he was now. The bittersweet melancholy of those memories never completely left him. He doubted he'd ever be free of it entirely, but he had noticed the pain gradually dulling as time continued to pass, like a wound slowly scarring over.

Maria watched the complex assortment of emotions play across the super soldier's face. She knew his past could be a touchy subject and was a bit surprised he found anything relating to it as something to laugh at. "If you don't mind me asking, why didn't Bucky come along?" she ventured.

Steve's sky-blue gaze met hers across the fire. "I offered, but he wasn't quite ready for a road trip. He's still getting used to being back."

Maria nodding, understanding all too well what Barnes was going through. Despite her best efforts to compartmentalize the distracting emotions, they'd eaten their way through her defenses. She'd only been gone five years and yet the world felt entirely different, like she was a puzzle piece jammed into a space she didn't fit. Everyone who hadn't been wiped out by the snap had gone on, lived their lives and experienced things she was completely ignorant of. There were times, usually when there was no more work to throw herself into and she was trying to grab a couple hours of sleep, that she wondered if it would've been simpler if she'd never come back at all. She couldn't help but think that it certainly would've been easier for her. She hadn't suffered the slightest inconvenience while she'd been dead. Living tended to complicate things, especially when you were doing it somewhere you didn't belong.

"What's it like?" Steve's gentle voice, inflected with apprehension, interrupted Maria's cynical thoughts.

She didn't ask what he meant. She hadn't risen through the ranks of SHIELD by being stupid. Maria pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them, watching as a soft breeze tussled the campfire. "It's not easy, feeling like you don't belong, not recognizing the world you're living in," Maria looked up and met Steve's sympathetic gaze, "You know how it is."

He nodded solemnly. "I do."

"I was only gone for five years and I feel outdated. I don't know how you did it after being gone for seventy."

"It wasn't easy," Steve said, recalling all the frustration and pain he'd dealt with over the years as he tried to adapt to his new world, "The hardest part wasn't the material stuff. Contrary to popular belief, I can use a cellphone just fine now."

Maria laughed a bit at Steve's comment, recalling all the times he'd come in, tail tucked between his legs, to explain how he'd broken another communicator. Steve returned Maria's smile for a moment, only to lose it as he glanced overhead, taking in the awesome expanse of the cosmos as it unfolded across the dark sky. "Losing things wasn't that hard. Losing people was what was hard. My war buddies, Howard, Peggy. I couldn't just go to the store and buy new modern versions of them."

Maria heard the pain in the super soldier's voice and it cut straight to her well-guarded heart, dredging up memories of all the comrades she'd lost over her years in global security. Their skills could be replaced. Their jobs could be done by newly minted agents. But they couldn't be replaced, everything they'd meant to you wasn't gone. The pain of losing them certainly didn't vanish. It just got compartmentalized.

"It's never easy to lose people...and it certainly never feels fair," Maris finally said.

Steve nodded at her words, gazing into the fire himself. "Reminds me of when I learned about Roosevelt."

The words had come out so softly that Maria had almost missed them among the nocturnal symphony surrounding her. She looked at Steve for a moment, who stared off down the course of the river, flanked by the great stone walls of the canyon.

"It was February of '45 when I went in the ice," Steve continued, still avoiding Maria's eyes, "The war wasn't over, but it was close. When I woke up, after the ice and New York, I started reading about how the war ended. That was when I learned about Roosevelt, how he'd died that April with victory only months away." Steve paused, swallowing a lump that had gathered in his throat. "I remember listening to his address on the radio after Pearl Harbor. We were all shocked and scared and confused. But he was unwavering. He said, 'With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph.' Inevitable. He didn't hope that we would win. He knew we would. He picked us all up when we needed it most, set us on the right path, the one that saved the world from the Axis powers. He was our leader. He saw us through so much and it should've been his victory...only he didn't live to see it. Before that, I never could have dreamed fate would be so cruel."

The soldier's voice broke a bit at the end, his chin dropping onto his chest as his large frame curled in on itself. His left hand wiped his misty eyes. Maria sat in silence, wishing she didn't see the parallels to his story, the ones that echoed in the aching chasm of loss that had formed in her chest. As she looked at Steve, she couldn't help but note the changes she'd observed in the time she'd known him, the ones that ran deeper than the physical. The average person might not notice that the light had long since left his beautiful eyes or how his broad shoulders drooped whenever he was out of the public's view, but she did and it hurt more than she wanted to admit. Steve reminded her of why she didn't believe in karma. If there was any truth to it, someone as innately good as him wouldn't have been visited by so much pain.

"Tony and Natasha knew what they were doing," Maria said, trying to make her usually stern voice as gentle as possible, "I don't think they would regret their decisions."

Steve's body shuddered with a pained sigh. "I know," he said quietly, "But it taints everything. Whenever I start to feel good about things, I remember that they're gone and that they aren't coming back. And it just hurts. It hurts like hell."

Listening to his wounded words, Maria was struck by a realization of what had made Steve such a great leader during the war and during his time with SHIELD. It wasn't the strength or the patriotic suit or the shield that made people want to follow him into battle. What made people gravitate to Steve was his compassion and the absolute sincerity with which he conveyed it, how he valued those alongside him, seeing them as people instead of assets. She couldn't recall any leader she'd been around during her years of service that felt losses as keenly as Steve.

It was a bit odd to hear such raw emotions expressed to her. Back during her SHIELD days, Maria Hill hadn't exactly been the person people had gone to when they needed to vent their emotions. Had anyone been crazy enough to try back then, she suspected she would've just referred them to a psychiatrist and gone on her way, focusing on the more pressing matters at hand that day. But this wasn't SHIELD and Steve wasn't some junior agent coping with his first mission.

Maria glanced back at the wall of the canyon behind her, rising up towards the sea of white stars overhead. It seemed immemorial, as if there was never a world where the great swathes of stone before her did not exist in their present form. When presented with the magnitude of its work, it was easy to forget the machinations of nature, the ways change could some slowly and ultimately produce something magnificent, like the river slowly carving the rocky landscape until the grandeur of the canyon came to be.

These thoughts lifted Maria to her feet and caused her to walk to where Steve sat, his head still drooping. He looked up in surprise as she sat beside him, his sad eyes marked with confusion. Maria met his gaze and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "I know it won't take the pain away, but try to remember the good you all did, how many lives were saved. Tony and Natasha did the noblest thing they could have. They made the ultimate sacrifice for the good of the world, no different than you crashing the Valkyrie," Maria said, feeling Steve tense muscles ease beneath her calloused fingers.

Steve looked down at his lap, where his hands lay. It was quiet for a few moments, the river burbling nearby as Maria kept her hand on Steve's shoulder. "Thank you," he said, finally meeting her eyes again and smiling softly.

"Don't mention it," Maria said, unable to do anything but smile back at the super soldier, who settled a little more comfortably onto the ground beside her, his large frame no longer shrinking in on itself, although his eyes still bore the signs of troubled thoughts. Maria could feel the curiosity nagging her, sitting at the back of her mind and gradually pushing for an answer. She'd wondered before if it was a side-effect of years in the intelligence community, where knowing was everything. "Do you mind if I ask you something personal?" she asked, removing her hand from his shoulder.

Steve laughed quietly. "Considering everything I've dumped on you tonight, I don't see why not."

"Why did you come back? You had what you always wanted: the chance to go home and be back in your own time." Maria felt a slight twinge of guilt for asking, but the curiosity was too much. Ever since the super soldier had come back from returning the Infinity Stones, she'd been racking her brain for the reason he'd give up what he always dreamed of, having fully expected him to remain in his time permanently.

"Well, you know what they say about the past: it's where fossils come from," Steve answered with a melancholic smile.

Maria stayed silent. She didn't even quirk an eyebrow at his initial words, waiting for the full explanation that she knew was coming.

"It's not like I didn't consider it. In some ways, you're right. I had always wanted that, the opportunity to go back to a time when things weren't so complicated and be with Peggy," Steve said, his face turning wistful at the mention of his old love's name, "But the more I thought about it, the more I thought about what I'd have to do to exist back there. I'd have to just let everything happen, 9/11, Oklahoma City, the Winter Soldier. I wouldn't be able to stop any of it. Even stopping a mugging could risk damaging the timeline. And I realized that I couldn't live that way. I couldn't just sit on the sidelines for decades while good people suffered around me, not when I had the power to do something about it."

Maria felt herself nodding along, thinking of her own life and how she could never leave security permanently, no matter how many late-nights it demanded or headaches it caused.

"Bucky once asked me what I was going to do after the war was over and I didn't have an answer for him," Steve said, the strength Maria had seen in battle returning to his eyes, "Eventually, I realized why. It's because there will always be a battle to fight and I will always be a soldier."

"Fury will be glad to hear that. There's been all kinds of chatter coming in. The world might need Captain America again soon," Maria said, the state of global affairs never far from her sharp mind.

Steve's lips twitched into a smile. "I thought you didn't want to talk about global security."

"And we're not going to. I was just letting you know that a lot of people are glad you're still here, Steve."

"Are you?"

The question took Maria off-guard and she froze, the sounds of nature reasserting themselves in the silence that hung over the campsite. It wasn't hard to imagine how she would have answered that question years ago, bluntly dismissing the idea of anything even remotely sentimental. But nothing was exactly the same as it had been. As she looked at Steve, always the soldier, she thought about the ways people couldn't change and the ways they could. Maybe nobody could be something they weren't. But maybe small changes could be made, a little gradual evolution to new circumstances. Amoebas could do it. Steve had done it in the modern world and, as she noticed the hope spark in his eyes, Maria knew her answer.

"Yes. I am."

An appreciative smile spread across Steve's face and Maria noticed a little bit of the light returning to his eyes. "Thank you."

"No problem," Maria said, thankful that her training had made her adept at controlling her facial expressions. Without it, she had a feeling that the look in Steve's eyes would have had her blushing. "One soldier to another," she added.

Maria stood afterwards, feeling the fatigue from the hike down. "I'm turning in. Feel free to set your tent up here; plenty of flat ground," she said.

Steve turned to her and nodded, smiling at her in that kind way that caused a small twinge in the pit of the agent's stomach. "Good night, Agent Hill."

Maria scoffed at the formality, even out in the wilds of Arizona. "Steve, we've known each other for years. You can call me Maria."

"Alright...Maria," Steve said, trying the name out and finding that he liked it, particularly the way it made her seem more like an old friend than a former boss.

Maria smiled one last time before disappearing into her tent, an efficient black spartan piece of camping equipment that Steve thought fit her perfectly. Meanwhile, the super soldier leaned back on his hands, the fire still crackling in front of him. He was glad he'd come to Arizona, glad he'd bumped into Maria. Somehow, a little bit of that pain that had been coiled around his heart for so long felt like it'd been shaken loose by their conversation. As he thought of that small smile he'd seen her sport, the darker parts of his soul felt a bit lighter.

Steve reached into his pack and retrieved his smart-phone and his headphones. It still amazed him all the music it could store, even after more than a decade. He scrolled past the older selections, Glenn Miller and Fats Waller flying by with a stroke of his finger. He settled on something familiar, but also a bit new. "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", but not the version by Judy Garland. This version was by somebody called IZ. He remembered that Tony had spoken highly of it. As the music began to play, the gentle strum of a ukulele and the humming of a soothing voice filling his ears, Steve looked up at the stars, sparkling like white diamonds above the canyon, and realized that, for the first time in a very long time, he was happy.

A/N: This was heavily influenced by Mark Waid's Captain America: Man Out of Time. If you've read it, you'll understand why I thought Steve remaining in the past permanently was a huge disservice to the character of Captain America. I've also always liked Maria Hill and thought she and Steve might understand each other well if they were ever given the opportunity to have a meaningful interaction.