[fic, Marvel] Shades Cast No Shadows

[therobotmuse]

Title Shades Cast No Shadows
Rating R
Fandom Marvel
Pairing? None specifically, though I'm sure you can find subtext
Word Count 4235
Genre Angst
Warnings Fairly minor spoilers for IM: World's Most Wanted, character death
Disclaimer I own none of these characters
Summary Steve's back. Tony's missing and the only one who knows were
Author's Note Prompted by dorky as "Maria and Cap's Crazy Adventure." I think it was supposed to be light and fun, but being me, I turned it into something not.
Thanks My beta autolobotomysuicide and pandanoai for helping me out.



Of all people, it had to be Maria Hill.

The circumstances surrounding Steve's resurrection were cloudy at best and he didn't care to think on the topic for very long. He occupied himself with other matters, which right now was finding Tony Stark .

Information on Tony was scattered. No one had heard from him after Norman Osborn had declared him a fugitive, or really after the invasion. It was troubling how Luke and Clint and even Peter seemed ambivalent to the situation.

It had taken weeks to find Tony's trail. And rather unfortunately, that trail led to Maria Hill -- fellow fugitive and last person seen with Tony Stark. He found her in some run down motel outside of Tucomcari, New Mexico -- the kind where the stucco was mostly gone and the doors were nearly rotted through. He had thought the place was abandoned at first but a few dim lights coming through beige curtains told him otherwise.

She opened the door with the chain still on and Steve only got a glimpse at the wary and worn eyes. She stared at him a long moment.

"Why don't you people stay dead?"

Steve felt the heat of anger beginning to rise in him already. It was surprising how quickly she stirred it in him.

"Because we like to annoy the hell out of people like you."

"Why are you here?"

"Sight-seeing," Steve said almost automatically. "Not a whole lot around here, so I decided to come see the local fugitive."

Steve caught the glare briefly before the door slammed shut in his face. He let out a deep sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm looking for Tony," he called through the door after making sure there was no one within earshot.

"If you find him," Maria called back, "Tell him to go fuck himself."

Steve's brow furrowed. He thought for a moment.

"You don't know where he is?"

"Not off the top of my head."

Steve sighed again, feeling that frustration and anger starting to grow.

"Can you--" he set his jaw and forced the words out, "Help me find him?"

There was a long silence. Steve's upper lip started to twitch. Was she actually going to make him ask again?

"Hill?" he shouted through the door. More silence.

He knocked -- pounded really. The door creaked and popped, then eventually fell in, having rotted off the hinges. It swung by the still attached chain, not falling to the ground completely. Steve stood there, arm still raised.

The interior was in about the same shape as the exterior. There was a flickering lamp on an old wooden end table, the shade full of holes and casting strange dancing shadows on the peeling floral wallpaper. The bed looked like it was actually a fold-out couch with moth-eaten sheets. Maria wasn't in the room, but there was a light coming from around the corner and he assumed it was the bathroom. The sound of water running drifted to him once the door settled.

Steve looked around outside briefly, then stepped in over the door. The water shut off and Maria rounded the corner a moment later, hair around her face wet and sticking up some. She had changed since the last time he had seen her. Her hair was longer and she had paled some -- looked like she hadn't slept in days.

She came to a halt when she saw him. Her eyes went from him to the door.

"The hell did you do?"

Steve blinked and felt almost embarrassed, "It fell off."

Maria snorted. She pushed passed him and went to inspect the door. She tried to pick it up, carefully avoiding the splintered parts.

Steve swallowed, turning to look at her, "I want to find Tony, but I don't know where to start."

"So you came to me?" She heaved the door and set it against the frame as best she could. "Ain't that a kick to the balls?"

"Look, are you going to help me or not?" Steve barked finally, "Because I'm wasting time here."

"Tony doesn't want to be found," she turned to face him finally. "He's got this martyr complex and there's not a damn thing any of us can do to stop him."

"Martyr..." Steve's brow furrowed, then he sighed. "What has he done now?"

Hill smirked, though she looked frustrated, "He's killing himself. Slowly."

"He's what?" Steve's anger was growling again, though this time not at Hill. "What does that even--Gah!"

He turned from her, running a hand through his hair. Tony liked to work in extremes -- Steve learned that years ago -- but he couldn't see how killing himself was going to accomplish anything.

"And you just let him do it?" he turned on her then.

"Yeah, I did," she said coolly. "You know why? Because that's the best damn plan we had. That's how bad it's gotten."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. He watched her a moment, trying to read her. He could tell she was doing the same. He had only gotten a vague image of the state of the world, but he had heard enough to know things were bad. Bad enough to necessitate Tony killing himself for whatever reason he had come up with? He didn't know.

"So do you want to find him or not?" he asked finally.

He watched Hill's reaction carefully. She was good at hiding what she was thinking, but he could see something stirring under that cool expression.

"How do you plan on tracking him down exactly?"

Steve let a smile grow on his lips, though he wasn't exactly certain of the answer himself.

"I've known Tony for a lot longer than you have. I know how he thinks."



It was hard to think like Tony Stark when Tony Stark obviously wasn't thinking

Hill had told him of Tony's plans, to delete the Extremis which Steve didn't realize was possible; to destroy his armories, but he hadn't realized there were more than the one in the Tower and the one at the SI Long Island plant. There were reports of sightings of the man from Vermont to Madrid and it wouldn't have surprised Steve to find out Tony had these armories all over the world.

They had gotten help from Rhodey on a possible location of an armory. There was no way of knowing if Tony had already been there or if he was going there at all, but it was all they had. Unfortunately, this meant they were faced with a three day drive, since neither of them could get on a plane and public transportation was just plan risky. The clunky old pickup Hill had been driving now hauled Steve's motorcycle as they drove down an all but deserted stretch of Route 66, nothing but desert and tumbleweeds in sight.

They had been driving in silence for the last three hours. Maria kept her eyes on the road and Steve sat with his own looking out the window, arms crossed over his chest. The radio didn't work, though Steve doubted they could pick up any stations even if it did.

She rolled her neck and he noticed her wincing some. Steve was quiet a moment longer.

"I can take over whenever you want." Last thing they needed was for a driver to get clumsy from fatigue.

"I'm fine," she replied simply, shortly.

Another silent moment.

"What was your part in his plan?" Steve shifted a bit in his chair. If they were going to be on the road for three days, at least they could try small talk.

"Got to be an errand boy," she sounded bitter, but that wasn't much different than how she normally spoke.

"What did he have you do?"

"Find a needle in a pile of needles and deliver it to the shiny new Captain America."

Bucky. Steve had yet to catch up with him but knew from those who he had spoken to who was under the cowl.

"You enjoy being vague don't you?"

She had a habit of answering all of his questions, but not actually telling him anything.

"Being vague can save your life."

Steve rolled his eyes, "We're working together now, in case you forgot."

"There are very few people I trust. You're not one of them."

Steve snorted, "The life you must lead."

Hill didn't answer. Steve then did begin to wonder what Maria's life might have been like for her to turn out like this, but then shook his head, riding him of the thought .

"How'd you get back?" it was her turn for questions.

Steve was quiet. The memories flashed through his mind -- the impenetrable darkness of his coffin, the panic dawning on him, the relief of the blinding light and freezing air when Namor freed him from the metal box.

But Hill didn't need to know that.

"I don't know," he answered. "I just...woke up."

"I didn't know people could 'just wake up' from death," again, there was that bitterness.

Steve looked at her fully now. He could see her jaw clenching as she avoided looking at him, fists tight on the steering wheel.

Finally, he asked, "What happened to you to make you hate us so much?"

A smirk passed over her lips and she laughed shortly.

"I don't hate you."

"Well it sure as hell seems like you do."

Silence. She kept her gaze forward on the road as ever. Steve waited for an answer that probably wouldn't come. His eyes left her, returning to the window with a sigh.



It was day two and Maria had spent the morning getting sick.

It'd take an idiot not to see she was ill -- pale, sweating and shivering at the same time -- but she insisted that she was fine, breakfast just disagreed with her, and Steve's want of seeing Tony outweighed his voice of reason.

Steve was driving now and they needed to fill up. He pulled into the barely active gas station. The scenery was changing at least; tumbleweeds had been replaced with short grass and shrubs and it actually looked like it had rained here in the past year.

Hill hopped out of the truck looking like she was uncertain if her legs could hold her. She worked her way to the convenience store while Steve started the pump, the kind that had to be done manually rather than let the computer do it -- these were probably considered 'old fashioned' but Steve preferred them, having mastered the 'perfect pump' back in his high school years.

Steve rested an arm on the side of the truck, trying not to breath in the dizzying fumes. An SUV rolled up, shiny and black. Steve watched it, his intuition telling him something bad was coming in with it. He tried to act casual.

And that worked for a while, until the doors opened and Steve was greeted with the sight of Madam Masque and a group of lackeys. Steve ducked instinctively, though he realized he was between a car and a gas pump and that was not an ideal place to be in a gun fight. With each shot fired, Steve knew he was that much closer to being blown up.

He, rather stupidly, was unarmed. He had no gun, no shield. He had packed quickly and lightly, wanting to find Tony and stay under the radar. That had obviously been flawed logic.

He heard shouting over the cracking of guns. It sounded like Hill had joined in.

"Open the door!" he heard her yell.

Steve quickly dislodged the pump from the gas tank, then climbed into the cabin of the truck. He laid across the seat to open the passenger side door. Moments later, Hill came running up, firing over her shoulder as she nearly jumped into the cabin.

Steve started the truck as Maria slammed the door closed. They peeled out, tank only half-full and back window shot out. Maria rolled down the window and fired a few last shots at the group of villains. Steve pushed the pedal down as far as it could go, though it didn't seem like they were being followed. Hill slipped back into the cabin, reloading the clip in her gun.

"What the hell was Madam Masque doing here?" Steve asked, looking through the rear-view mirror to the quickly disappearing station.

"The same thing we are..." she was looking her gun over, then checking in the mirrors. "She works for Osborn."

"What?" Steve's grip on the wheel tightened

"Not officially. He's hiring villains as part-timers."

Steve's eyebrow twitched. Had the world really gone this far to hell while he was gone?

"So they know where he is?" It was less a question, more a statement. Steve took this as a sign that their mission had been compromised.

"They know where we are," Hill clarified. She looked away from the mirrors finally, keeping the gun in her lap. "And they know we know where he is. We've been stupid."

"We need to ditch the truck," Steve's mind was working. "Stay off main roads."

She dug in her coat pocket and pulled out a map. He figured she bought it at the station. She studied it a moment, then looked up at the road signs, and back down.

"Turn off at the next exit," she told him. "Finding a new ride might be hard, but we can take a detour."



The third day was all but scrapped. Hill was busy getting sick again while Steve was studying the map, trying to find the fastest way to the armory while staying on the back roads. She had been in there for thirty minutes this time, though it had been a total of three hours off and on. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. They were burning daylight and Steve was getting frustrated by her stubborn refusal to admit anything was wrong.

The toilet flushed and Steve was surprised she still had anything left to throw up. The door to the bathroom didn't open so Steve went over. He knocked out of courtesy then opened the door. Hill was sitting on the floor with her head resting against the edge of the seat, sweating and looking a bit green.

"You need a doctor," Steve stated, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

"No I don't," her voice was hoarse, quiet.

Steve snorted, "Drop the touch girl act, Hill. We'll take you to the free clinic and figure out what's wrong with you."

"I know what's wrong with me," she glared from her position on the floor. "I've got an infection from a massive fucking wound I have on the back of my neck."

"What?" Steve stood there a moment, thinking she was maybe joking, but when no answer came, he went over to her.

Hill moved surprisingly quick, something wild in her eye, reminding Steve of an injured dog not wanting anyone to touch it. Her back was against the tub and with no where else to go, Steve pulled on the back of her shirt, getting a look at the bloodied, sloppy bandages at the base of her neck that had obviously been put on by Hill herself.

"What happened?" Steve wanted to take the bandages off to see how bad it really was, but thought he had pushed his luck enough.

"I got stupid," she looked up at him with a death wish in her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not important."

"Well I think it's damn important," Steve fought with his anger, trying to keep it in check. "I need to know what's going on with the members on my team--"

"I don't answer to you, Rogers."

"Then who do you answer to, Hill?" His anger won out. "Because it isn't Norman Osborn. It isn't Tony Stark. It sure as hell isn't your country--"

"I answer to myself," She answered quickly, struggling to get to her feet. "I could care less what you think of me, what any of them think of me. As long as I can still look myself in the eye, that's what matters."

Steve paused for a long moment, studying her, "So you're proud of what you've done?"

Maria's answer was surprisingly quick and firm, "No." The word hung for a moment, bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom. Finally, she continued, "I've done what I thought was right, not what was 'honorable' or any of that bull. If I wanted to be proud of myself, I wouldn't have joined SHIELD."

She was standing by this point, though shaky and looked ready to pass out at any moment. Yet, she kept her back straight, shoulders square, and met Steve's eyes. Steve took her in, took her words in, turned them over in his mind.

"Then why did you join?"

She didn't miss a beat, "To prove I could."


Maria was not allowed to drive for the rest of the trip, Steve had decided with much protest from the woman. She was quiet now, sitting in the passenger seat, legs up on the bench and pulled close to her chest, sweating still and now shivering just a bit and coughing occasionally. Steve knew she had to get help soon, her body was obviously not able to fight whatever infection she had. Hospitals were risky, off limits due to HAMMER likely monitoring them and free clinics had the possibility of not being prepared to treat something like this. With the options limited, they could only keep driving and hope there was something at the armory that could help.

Steve pulled up into the gas station, keeping a sharp eye for any vehicle that gave him a bad feeling. This last tank should get them to the armory.

"You need anything?" he asked before getting out of the cabin.

"I can get it," Maria said sharply, unfolding herself from the seat and climbing out on unsteady legs. It was almost painful to watch, but Steve liked having all ten fingers, so he didn't offer any help.

He followed her in, needing to pay for the gas in cash first. He walked behind her closely in case her legs did finally give out. In the convenience store was the cashier, a man and a girl Steve assumed was his daughter.

"You eat any more of those and your ass will get too big to fit into the car!" The father was yelling loudly at the girl.

Steve looked at him with a furrowed brow. He handed the cashier the money, but kept his eyes on the man and girl. The father eventually left the store, the girl trailing behind him. Maria, who had shuffling around the aisles, put a hand on the girl's shoulder. The girl stopped and Maria handed her some kind of sweets.

"It's on me," Maria said, smiling some, which looked strange on her. "Don't let your father see it."

The girl nodded, looking a little confused, then ran out the door. Before the cashier could protest, Maria tossed a ten at him, then left the store herself. Steve finished up paying for the gas and soon followed.

Maria was already back in the truck by the time he got out there. She was resting her head against the window, eyes closed and having returned to her previous position. Steve watched for a moment, then went about filling up the truck, knowing he had to get her help soon.



The door to the bunker slid open and Steve held his breath. It was dark, a few fluorescent lights overhead flickered to life only to die again. He got glimpse of red and gold armor in pieces scattered on the floor. Hill's gun had been handed over to Steve because her hands were shaking too bad to hold it. He kept a sharp eye out for the both of them, having more or less written the woman off at this point, though it was surprising that she was still able to walk.

They moved slowly, quietly. Steve squinted into the darkness, trying to see beyond the inconsistent rings of light the flickering lamps offered. He could hear some kind of humming coming from somewhere farther in. Steve motioned in a direction and Maria nodded her understanding.

It was coming from some room off the main hall. The door was cracked up, a blueish light coming spilling out into the darkened corridor. Steve peeked in, getting a glance at a bank of computer screens and the silhouette of someone sitting in a chair. Steve and Hill exchanged a glance, then slipped into the room. Steve had the gun ready.

"Tony?"

The figure jumped and turned. Steve let out the breath he had been holding when he saw the familiar, if sickly, face of his old friend. His face was thinned and paled, dark circles under his eyes and goatee patchy, but unmistakably it was Tony Stark.

Steve imagined Tony was frozen with shock at seeing him alive, but he seemed to be twitching uncontrollably, his face, his body -- not often, but often enough to make it difficult to look at him. Steve offered a smile, trying to hide his discomfort.

"God..." Tony's voice was hushed. "Are you real?"

Steve laughed, "Yes, I'm real."

A grin formed on Tony's face, wide and bright, though sometimes marred by a muscle contraction. Tony got to his feet, a bit stiff, like he hadn't used them in a while. He limped over to Steve and embraced him. Steve returned it, feeling Tony's body twitch occasionally under his arms. Tony pulled back eventually, holding Steve at an arm's length to look at him.

"Y-You-" Tony stammered a bit. He closed his eyes and shook his head, then tried again. "You look great for a dead man."

Steve chuckled, "So do you. I've heard rumors."

"Ah, right," Tony nodded. "News of my death has been greatly exaggerated."

"Yeah, I can see that--"

"Fuck this."

Steve blinked. He looked beside him and was surprised to still see Maria there. He had completely forgotten about her when he had seen Tony. She looked furious underneath her obvious sickness.

"Maria," Tony seemed taken back as well. "You're...alive."

Maria scoffed, "Yeah, go me."

Maria turned sharply and walked out, surprisingly quick given her condition. Tony made to go after her, but Steve stopped him.

"I'll talk to her. You rest."

Steve caught up with Hill, her pace having slowed significantly, coughing violently, but still hobbling along.

"Maria," He called, trying to sound...well, friendly.

"He's all yours..." she said hoarsely between coughs, "I'm...I'm done dealing with his shit."

"Maria," Steve went over to her, easily keeping pace, "We can get you help. You just need to rest-"

Maria laughed, though it turned into a cough. The fit went on painfully long. She braced herself against one of the few Iron Man armors that remained standing. She took a moment to catch her breath.

"I should have been resting a week ago," she said sharply. "But instead...instead..." Her voice drifted off. She swallowed, then took a few more deep breaths. For a moment, Steve thought she might get sick, but instead he watched her knees give out, quiet voice saying, "Rogers..."

Steve dashed forward, catching her in the fall, movements instinctive. He lowered her to the floor, mind racing, thinking of what needed to be done. He could feel her shivering, the heat coming off her body, hear her choked breathing.

"Just hold on," he told her. He had to get him to the nearest hospital, even if it meant that Osborn would find them. "You've made it this long, you can hold on just a bit more. Tony!"

Maria laughed weakly, "This...this is such...such bullshit..." Her eyes danced over his face, trying to focus. He was amazed to see she was actually smirking, "May-Maybe I'll j-just...wake up some day..."

Steve felt a strange kind of panic rising in him. He hardly liked her, but he was afraid of her dying. Yet, she seemed to be taking it head on. He looked around the darkened bunker, looking for any sort of first aid, though he doubted it would be much use at this point. He couldn't just let her...

Her eyes drifted beyond him now, over his shoulder. Steve turned and saw that Tony had appeared in the doorway, looking startled.

Her voice was soft, barely there, but the words carried in the stillness of the armory, "Damn him..."

There were a few more struggled breaths, no more words, then Steve felt her body relax, go limp. After such a long fight, she was gone in minutes, so fast Steve didn't believe she was actually dead at first, checking her pulse, listening for breath. He sat there a moment, brain working at a sluggish pace due to...shock? Sadness?

He swallowed. He laid her down, closed her eyes, but stayed sitting there, unsure how to handle this. She had held on for so long, this close to death, and he hadn't even realized, how strong she had been to fight it off for that long.

Tony had made his way over and knelt, though it looked like it pained him to do so. He was quiet a long moment, looking her over, features hard to read.

"What happened?" he asked finally, voice hushed.

He didn't even know? Steve tried his best to hide his horror and outrage.

"I don't know," Steve answered finally. He swallowed hard, fighting down the sickness he felt, realizing there was a lot he didn't know about her.