Author's Note: How pathetic am I? This is all I could think while watching Maria Hill's interrogation in the deleted scenes on the Blu-ray.

It was all the Council's fault, Agent Hill decided. If it hadn't been for them, she could have gone the rest of her life without learning the truth. But they had to collect an official statement from her! Her first thought when she got the summons was that they must never know. But what couldn't they know? She couldn't keep a secret from them that she didn't know herself. She had to face that secret and recognize it for what it was before she could plan how to protect it.

I love him. She forced herself to say it, over and over again, in her head, until she could think it without causing her heart to race or her voice to falter. It was agonizing, but she showed herself no mercy – she deserved none for being so foolish anyway. She, an elite agent and highly-trained soldier from the highest ranks of the most advanced army in the world, was now guilty of the most unprofessional mistake possible for someone in her position to commit. Denial, however, would only make it worse. She couldn't undo it, but she could stop it from causing any harm.

I love him, she thought as she prepared to face the Council. She knew what they wanted from her. They wanted her to give them rope to hang Director Fury to save themselves from the political gibbet. They wanted her to enable them to blame him for the destruction caused by the enemy he had helped defeat and escape blame for the devastation they would have caused themselves. They wanted to secure their power by draining his. It was an interesting flip of roles – Fury had always considered it his duty to protect the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. from their interference, and she was now in the position of protecting Director Fury. She anticipated that with a feeling inappropriately close to enjoyment, given the circumstances – why?

I love him, she answered, unable to get used to the alien feeling. She gave herself credit for all the years they had worked together that had passed as normally as they should, when he was merely a leader she was proud to work for and follow and truly nothing more, when she often found his methods questionable and even reprehensible enough to doubt him and his decisions. When had that all changed? She didn't think she was denying anything when she concluded this most recent mission had done all the damage.

I love him, she admitted, wondering what about this mission was different. He was as imposing and determined and fearless and intelligent and fierce and persevering as ever. That didn't justify her foolishness, of course.

I love him, she confessed as she compared his age and rank with her own, pictured them on the bridge surrounded by their fellow soldiers, holding the fate of anything from a city to a country to the world in their hands. The more detailed her picture of their positions was, the more insane she appeared.

I love him, she thought as she remembered watching him in action on the bridge. She knew that it was the admiration she felt for him as a soldier and a leader that had led to it. That admiration for his strength and heroism had grown into something she'd never predicted.

I love him, she thought as she replayed the moment she'd shot his attacker's head off. She couldn't decide which interpretation of the situation was worse – if she'd been focused on protecting him, or if they'd both been entirely focused on protecting the bridge together as a synchronized team.

I love him, she thought, trying to recall her anger when the bunker was destroyed, taking a still-mounting toll of lives with it, by that obviously dangerous artifact he insisted on playing with, and when he manipulated a group of mourning friends by dipping their fallen comrade's treasures in his own blood. She should have realized then that she was taking it too personally – he had let her down, she'd felt.

I love him, she thought as she recalled the sight of the Quinjet flying off. It had worked – she had realized that she couldn't condemn him for a plan that had succeeded. The Avengers – he had made them. Earth's Mightiest Heroes – they were the ingredients, he was the chemist who put them together in the right combination with the perfect catalysts to create the desired reaction.

I love him, she thought as she remembered watching the dust settle on the remnants of the battle they had won. He had led them to this victory. He had made a seemingly impossible idea solid reality. He had given her something her job hadn't allowed her to have for a long time – hope.

I love him, she thought as she let that hope overwhelm her – hope that people had the capacity to overcome their differences, combine their unique strengths, and work together to solve problems without resorting to devastating measures, without making immeasurable sacrifices for questionable victories, without giving into despair so that consequences didn't matter. He had earned her admiration, he had given her hope, he had helped save the world – the result was perfectly logical.

I love him, she thought without shame or fear as she faced his enemies. She didn't know whether they honestly expected her to ignore the victorious results of his plans and condemn him for his seemingly reckless daring regardless, or if they thought selfish ambition would motivate her to stab her superior in the back without hesitation. Their poor judgment of her was helpful – it meant her secret was completely beyond their suspicion.

I love him, she thought boldly as she lay her cards on the table. They knew she wasn't bluffing; they wouldn't come after him again, not when she had this weapon of information pointed at their heads. They probably thought such audacity was foolhardy and uncalled for. Let them think what they wanted. She'd won. He was safe, and so was her secret.

I love him, she thought as she rejoined him on the bridge. The worst was over, but there was still no escaping it. She flattered herself that she could handle it. She harbored no impossible expectations, no pointless hope, no anticipation of fulfillment or relief of any kind. It would be nothing more than a greater sense of his full value, a new layer of satisfaction in her work, a confidence that they would win whenever he led her into battle, a hope for humanity and the world founded on the fact that he existed and achieved things she otherwise never would have thought possible. It was enough.

I love him. She knew it.

But no one else ever would.