Maria stares over the edge of the building.

'Come on,' Tony's voice comes out muffled from his mask. 'I promise I'll catch you.'

'Yeah I'm sure that's very reassuring to her right now,' Clint responds, thumb rubbing absently over his bow.

Just take a deep breath and jump.

Maria swallows against the vertigo. She'd been hovering above the ground in random spurts recently and Tony, unfortunately, had noticed and brought it to Fury's attention.

Really Hill you're pretty much indestructible. A fall from the top of Stark Tower isn't going to be a big deal.

The thought makes her blink and then Maria sucks in a breath. She dangles one foot off the ledge.

She really wishes Steve was here and not in Wakanda trying to broker an alliance with the Black Panther.

Maria jumps. And then finds herself floating and suspended, the wind buffeting her hair and skin.

She's flying.

'Son of a bitch,' Clint murmurs.

Tony skirts around her. 'Thank God that worked. Cap would have killed me.'

Maria decides to let the comment slide as she darts upwards towards the sky.

Apparently she needs a costume.

'What's wrong with my uniform?'

'Don't get me wrong – it's very…SHIELD chic. But you're an Avenger now and we like our costumes to reflect our individual identities,' Tony responds readily.

'Or egos,' Maria retorts.

Tony shrugs.

'Does anyone else feel like their stuck in a bad remake of Miss Congeniality?' Maria mutters under her breath, earning her a smirk from Natasha.

She's at home staring at the scars peppering her body. Her new powers have seen the ridged tissue smooth down but Maria thinks that if you squint hard enough, the pain and blood behind each mark isn't hard to miss.

The faint glow of the tall standing lamp makes her face warm and she peers intently at a faint line right above her right eyebrow. A few minutes later she pulls on the dark blue SHIELD uniform, fingers brushing lightly against the black bodysuit that had made Steve speechless. Maria allows herself a smile before darting out of her window into the new.

Chicago isn't like she remembers it. There seems to be a new edge to the city she hasn't noticed before, but maybe that's just because she hasn't been home in long time.

Home.

Maria tests the word out in her head as the wind whips through her hair. The flight from New York to Illinois had made her doubts resurface but she tells herself she needs to do this, if only because almost dying a few months ago has brought back memories that are becoming a noose around her neck.

She's kept tabs on her father since joining SHIELD covertly, though Maria is sure Fury knows and understands.

Anthony Hill's small apartment looms and Maria hovers uncertainly, watching the harsh white light spill onto the fire escape. She keeps her toes a few inches above the metal grating as she ventures towards the window.

Her breath stills as she takes in the faint air of dissaption and the shock of white covering her father's head. Anthony had always been a big man, something Maria had become familiar with whenever he reached for the bottle.

She remembers an old neighbour, one who had known her mother, telling Maria of how loving her father was, how he had doted on the woman he couldn't imagine a life without.

Maria's acknowledgment of her father's hatred doesn't make the pain or anger ease. Anthony Hill looks tired, a shadow of a man. Maria takes in the casual neglect of the apartment, wonders if she ever noticed it growing up or if her fear for her father made little details like that negligible.

Her boots land heavily on the ground and her father whips his head around. Maria finds herself staring into his blue eyes, the same ones she sees in the mirror, and something inside her seizes when those blue eyes regard her as a stranger.

She turns and leaves without a sound.

Being indestructible wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

She thinks of the Ultrons and wonders whether they feel, whether they are worse off not being able to comprehend human emotion.

'Maria?' Steve's voice makes her duck her head lower. He's dressed in that brown leather bomber he favours and jeans, hands in his pockets as he straightens from his position outside her apartment door.

'I'm tired,' Maria tells him and its true. She makes a point not to make eye contact although she's conscious of his movement and smell.

'Where did you go?'

'Excuse me?' Maria whips her head around, eyes flashing. 'Have you been spying on me?'

Steve holds his palms up. 'I saw you fly out the window while I was coming in,' he answers easily.

Maria feels her shoulders deflate and the fatigue settle back down over her. 'Can we please-'

'Maria,' Steve says her name and the concern in his tone is new. It's foreign and unfamiliar. 'Why are you crying?'

His thumb swipes across her cheek and she touches her face when his finger comes away wet.

'God, what is wrong with me?' She murmurs under her breath. She gently pushes Steve away. 'Can we discuss whatever it is tomorrow?'

'No,' Steve retorts. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong,' Maria tells him harshly and jerks away, all but splintering her front door as she gets it open. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Mari-'

'No,' she practically yells and this time she knows she's crying because her vision blurs at the edges. 'You don't get to come in here and care about me like I'm someone worth…like I'm worth it. Just leave me alone!'

'You don't mean that,' Steve whispers and his words make her pause. The blood rushes to her cheeks and she wonders what he thinks of this broken, confused woman before him.

What makes you think that a man who symbolizes the exact opposite could ever come to feel anything for you?

'I really need you to go,' Maria turns her face away and shrugs off her jacket. She sees that her hands are shaking.

Fingers close over her shoulder and she thinks it's the warmth that proves to be her undoing. It's comforting and she doesn't know whether that's a good or bad thing.

Steve murmurs in her ear, words she doesn't hear over the sobs that come from deep within her. Her father's eyes, so cold and so indifferent, even after all these years…

Maria buries herself into Steve's chest and likes the way his arms come around her like a shelter. Like a protector.

She wakes up the next morning feeling like crap. She's in her bed and still in her SHIELD uniform. The curtains are drawn and the sunlight is muted.

Maria smells eggs.

She brushes the hair from her face and rubs her hand through it. She hears the dull clang of pan against stove and buries her face into her hands.

'You're awake,' Steve states. Maria presses against her forehead before slowly turning towards him. He's dressed in a white undershirt and what looks suspiciously like a pair of boxers. The intimacy of the moment makes her want to laugh.

Maria doesn't know what to say and she stares out the window. She feels exposed and vulnerable, which is ironic considering she could crush the wall to dust.

The air moves and Steve is crouched beside her, looking up with those eyes so unlike her father's. It makes her heart jump.

'Thank you,' she tells him softly, almost ashamed. Steve seems to pick up on the undertone because he reaches out to her, wraps his callused fingers around her own roughened ones.

'You don't ever have to thank me for caring about you.'

She squeezes his fingers tightly, as if afraid that he would float away like a dream.

And Maria feels something she hasn't felt in a long time – loved.